


azzurrite

by gotchick



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotchick/pseuds/gotchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which mark is an artist and jaebum is a salaryman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	azzurrite

When his phone rings on a rainy Thursday afternoon, Mark is sprawled haphazardly across the couch in his living room watching the raindrops track their way down the glass windowpane and biting the end of his pencil as he tries to capture the still life realistically on his white sketch pad. On the floor surrounding him are scattered more than a few crumpled balls of torn paper covered with half-done and abandoned sketches, carelessly and frustratedly creased and littering the already cluttered floor. Mark groans, lazy to move from his position but a little relieved for the distraction, his hand reaching under his body to fumble in his jeans pocket for his phone.  
  
It stops ringing before he finishes sifting through the various random odds and ends in his pocket, pricking his finger on a stray paperclip and suspiciously poking at something which feels disturbingly soft and damp. Finally, thankfully, he finds the cool metal of his phone and fishes it out, unlocking the screen with a dash of his thumb.  
  
He's not surprised to see the words "1 Missed Call from Park Jinyoung". Mark doesn't bother to press the button to call Jinyoung back, instead flippantly counting down the seconds till, as expected, his phone lights up and starts vibrating again. It thrums furiously in his hands, as if carrying Jinyoung's urgency and vigour. Mark sighs away the vestiges of his fatigue and braces himself as he resignedly answers Jinyoung's call.  
  
"Mark-hyung?" Jinyoung's voice is muffled and slurred by background noise, as if he's outside. "Were you sleeping?" He sounds disapproving.  
  
Mark places a hand over the phone and clears his throat sheepishly. "No," he replies, sounding a bit more normal. It's technically true, even if he did just wake up less than an hour ago. Jinyoung, who is obviously out and about working diligently, doesn't need to know that.  
  
"Oh, okay," Jinyoung says a little skeptically. "Sorry if I woke you up," he mumbles absently, and Mark hastily and unconvincingly reassures him that he hadn't.  
  
"Anyways," Jinyoung says, moving on without further ado, "I called because I have a new job for you."  
  
Mark perks up, but feels a vague sinking feeling in his stomach that resembles dread. He's always excited and thankful to hear from Jinyoung about new projects, but deep inside, he knows what he's worried about this time. He hasn't told Jinyoung, but Mark hasn't had inspiration for more than a month now, since midway through his last project.  
  
He had lost steam halfway through that piece, which was comissioned by a fashion design company, and half-assed the rest of it, but no one had seemed to notice his drop in quality. At least, he hoped. Judging from Jinyoung's call now with a new assignment, the freelance company hasn't picked up on it yet. However, Mark has the sinking feeling that it's only a matter of time before it shows.  
  
Jinyoung is a middleman working at the company -- the person who facilitates the contacts and introduction between Mark and the client looking for an artwork, the one who matches artists to the right job according to their skills and experience. Mark has been working with him for two years now, and he has no complaints. Jinyoung is the best in his field.  
  
Mark appreciates Jinyoung's hard work in looking for a steady stream of well-paying jobs for him, regular enough to maintain his income and keep him comfortably housed and fed, his monthly rent for the apartment-slash-studio he lives and works from never overdue. He knows that Jinyoung favours him over the other freelance artists under their company, not only because he admires Mark's talent but also because he sees Mark as a good friend. And Mark has always felt the responsibility to repay Jinyoung's care with top-notch art and results, so Jinyoung will look good in front of the clients.  
  
But somewhere along the way, when Mark hadn't realized, pressure had started creeping in at the corners, weighing heavily on his shoulders. A sense of listlessness and sluggishness had began dragging at his ankles and hands like chains and Mark had started feeling more uninspired than enthusiastic. His work had become a chore.  
  
Mark was afraid to disappoint himself and the company. But more than that, he was afraid to disappoint Jinyoung, who had always supported him and believed in him. So he had kept quiet and hoped that his inspiration would return with time.  
  
Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be forthcoming.  
  
"Mark?" Jinyoung's voice filters in from a distance, and Mark snaps out of his reverie to hear Jinyoung calling him impatiently over the phone. "So can you?" Jinyoung is asking, sounding stressed and hopeful.  
  
"Can I what?" Mark cringes, confused, and Jinyoung sighs but doesn't berate him for his inattentiveness as he dutifully repeats his query. "Can you go meet the client at his company?"  
  
"Meet?" Mark repeats blankly, even though he shouldn't be surprised. It isn't the first time that the client has chosen to eschew communicating through the go-between and requested to meet the artist directly. It's uncommon, but not rare. Mark usually finds it a hassle but there's nothing to be done. It's part of the job. Some clients are just more picky than others and like to specifically detail and discuss the requested artwork with the artist personally.  
  
"I know it's a drag," Jinyoung says sympathetically. "But I couldn't think of a better artist for this assignment than you, hyung. The moment I saw the client's request, I immediately thought, _this is so Mark-hyung's style_."  
  
Jinyoung's voice is persuasive, encouraging through the phone. Mark feels a flattered rush of warmth swell in his heart, and feels the usual urge not to let Jinyoung down. After all, he trusts Jinyoung's taste unconditionally. In the time they've worked together, Jinyoung has yet to recommend him a job that didn't suit Mark.  
  
"I don't mind," he says cheerfully, and is gratified to hear Jinyoung's sigh of relief.  
  
"Thanks," he gushes, "You're a lifesaver."  
  
"No, thank you for recommending me the job, Jinyoung-ah," Mark says earnestly, and Jinyoung laughs warmly.  
  
"Hyung, you got the job based on your own merits. I didn't do anything," he says humbly and sincerely, and Mark feels a wave of gratitude for him.  
  
"I have to go," Jinyoung adds harriedly. "I'll catch up with you when I'm not so busy. Oh right, the appointment is this evening. I'll text you the address of the company and the name of the executive."  
  
"This evening?" Mark blurts out, startled.  
  
"Yeah, sorry it's such short notice," Jinyoung says apologetically. "He's only free tonight. Your schedule isn't already occupied... right?"  
  
"I'm free," Mark reassures him. "Just text me. Talk to you soon."  
  
"Cool, take care!" Jinyoung says quickly in farewell, and hangs up.  
  
  
  
Mark tosses his phone onto the couch beside him after the call ends, dropping his sketch pad and burying his face in a throw pillow. Within a minute, his phone beeps again with Jinyoung's message. He doesn't bother to check it, instead burrowing deeper into his cocoon of cushions as if he can escape real life just by not looking at it.  
  
  
  
Mark lazes on his couch, barely moving a muscle, until the shadows of the setting sun sink across the walls of his darkening living room and he finally senses that if he procrastinates any longer, he'll be late and cause unnecessary problems and a bad first impression with the client. He sighs and finally takes the pillow off his face, letting a shard of weak light in to pierce his drowsy eyes. He staggers to his feet, the sketch pad falling to the floor, not bothering to pick up the crumpled balls of paper as he trudges in his sweats to the bathroom to splash water on his face.  
  
Ten minutes later, Mark is looking marginally more human and a lot more presentable, having run a comb through his hopelessly tousled bed hair and brushed his teeth. He knows he should take a shower but is too lazy to, instead spritzing a dash of cologne over his torso, hoping it will help to disguise any unwanted odours.  
  
He opens his closet, mechanically stepping out of his sweats and pulling on his only suit and collared whte shirt, the one he wears on such occasions. He clumsily knots the noose of the tie and buttons up the suit, running a nervous hand through his hair and down the front of the stiff navy fabric. He hates having to button himself into stuffy formalwear. In this way, he's the cliche starving artist, always dressing in clothes that wouldn't look out of place in the "bohemian chic" section of clothing stores.  
  
  
  
It's five-fifteen when he finally finishes dressing up and opens Jinyoung's message. The address is a building in the business district about half an hour away from Mark's neighbourhood, and the meeting time is six. It's about time for him to leave the house.  
  
On his way out the door, he grabs his wallet from the coffee table. It's depressingly light but Mark can't muster the energy to walk to the train station and take public transport, not at such a crowded peak hour. The rain has stopped but the weather is still too chilled to walk long distances. Instead, he steps onto the sidewalk and hails a cab, hoping Mr Im Jaebum -- the name mentioned in Jinyoung's message -- will not ask to talk over dinner.  
  
  
  
He does.  
  
Mr Im Jaebum is a statuesque, stern-looking man with thick eyebrows that give him a forbidding aura, thin unsmiling lips and penetrating eyes that make Mark shift his feet nervously. He introduces himself as the artistic director of the advertising company, which is one of the most reputable in the country. It's obviously a prestigious position and Mark feels slightly intimidated, hoping he won't look too unsophisticated in front of such a highly-ranking executive.  
  
"Mark Tuan?" he ascertains, brow creasing the slightest bit as he gives Mark a discreet once-over, but his voice is polite and professional.  
  
"That's me," Mark confirms just as politely, not taking offense. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Im." He extends a genial hand and puts on his most disarming smile.  
  
Jaebum looks genuinely surprised, his eyebrows lifting, but the eyes underneath them thaw a little as he takes Mark's hand after a beat. His handshake is firm, grip strong. "It's a pleasure to meet you too. Sorry," he adds unexpectedly, "it's just that you're younger than I thought you'd be."  
  
Mark can't help the burst of laughter that escapes his lips, and Jaebum looks mildly amused. "It's okay, I get that a lot," he replies honestly. It's true. People usually expect artists to be middle-aged, or at least in their thirties. Added to the fact that Mark looks younger than his age, he sometimes gets mistaken for a college student.  
  
Sure enough, the next question Jaebum asks is, "Are you a student?" He's surprisingly chatty for someone who looks like a man of few words, or maybe he's just making small talk to break the ice.  
  
Mark resists the urge to roll his eyes and replies pleasantly, "Nope. I'm twenty-nine."  
  
Jaebum does a double take, blinking, and Mark mutters, "What?" He doesn't have to look that shocked.  
  
"Oh no, I didn't mean..." Jaebum quickly apologizes when he realizes how Mark has interpreted his reaction. "It's just that -- I'm twenty-nine too."  
  
"We're the same age?" Mark exclaims, animated. "That's so cool!"  
  
He is surprised to see Jaebum breaking into a small smile, the ends of his lips curling up infinitesimally. "It's pretty awesome," he agrees.  
  
Mark studies Jaebum closely, admitting to himself that he's taken aback too by Jaebum's age. He had looked in his early thirties, at least. Mark feels a faint pang of envy. It must be nice to look mature and adult, and not get mistaken as a university student all the time.  
  
On further comparison, Mark is astounded to find out that Jaebum is in fact, a year younger than him -- the same age by the Korean calendar, but a few months younger in the universal system. He silently admires Jaebum's career accomplishments at such a youthful age.  
  
They lapse into a momentary silence after this exchange, each mulling over the new information, but it's not as uncomfortable and stiff as the beginning.  
  
"So," Mark starts awkwardly, and Jaebum opens his mouth at the same time.  
  
"Should we --"  
  
They fall silent, and Mark gestures for Jaebum to go ahead with a friendly smile. Jaebum offers him that slight smile back. He actually has a really nice smile, teeth straight and even, perfectly white.  
  
"Do you want to talk over dinner?" Jaebum suggests, voicing out Mark's trepidated question.  
  
"Uh... sure," Mark mumbles after a moment, not seeing how he can refuse.  
  
"Great," Jaebum says, his voice distinctly more enthusiastic. "Do you have a car?"  
  
Mark shakes his head. "I cabbed here."  
  
"Let's take mine then," Jaebum says easily, picking up his briefcase from his desk and gallantly holding the door open to let Mark out of the office first. Mark shuffles out, tugging at the strap of his tattered sling bag and hears the heels of Jaebum's suede shoes clicking on the marble tile as he trails at Mark's heels towards the elevator.  
  
As they are standing in stilted silence in the lift moving down from the seventh storey, Mark's phone beeps. He fishes it out to see a new message in his ongoing chat with Jinyoung checking if he has met up with Jaebum yet. There is a huge LINE sticker after the question mark, bigger than the message itself, and unconsciously, Mark snorts a giggle at Jinyoung's irreverence.  
  
He flushes as Jaebum turns to look at him, typing out a quick reply and shoving the phone back into his pocket. Jaebum is gazing at him curiously, his eyes unreadable. Just then, the doors slide open and Jaebum turns back to the front, stepping out without further comment. Mark follows in his wake.  
  
Jaebum's car is a posh vintage SUV, obviously new and expensive. Mark admires its sleek finish discreetly and gets into the passenger seat. Jaebum tosses his briefcase in the rear and slides into the driver's seat, revving the engine to life with a smooth, noiseless twist of the key.  
  
As they exit the carpark into the night illuminated by amber streetlamps and traffic lights, Mark turns to Jaebum, smiling tentatively. "Do you want to go to McDonald's?"  
  
This time, Jaebum is the one who snorts audibly, until he takes his eyes off the road to look at Mark with incredulous eyes. "Are you serious?"  
  
Mark drops his gaze, embarrassed. "Uh, yeah..."  
  
Jaebum doesn't reply and Mark feels his gaze on him for a few beats, until it returns to the road. "I don't really feel like fast food tonight," Jaebum says lightly. "I know a French restaurant nearby where we can reserve a private room. Do you like French?"  
  
"Er..." Mark hedges. How does he say _I haven't been able to afford it before_ in a courteous way? In the end, he wimps out and mumbles, "I'm easy."  
  
"Good," Jaebum just says, sounding pleased as they promptly speed towards the mentioned restaurant.  
  
When they arrive and Jaebum pulls into the parking lot, climbing out of the car and waiting patiently for Mark, he realizes that the restaurant is more classy than he had expected. It looks like one of those gourmet cuisine ones, with elaborately suited waiters and a hostess at the stand outside beaming welcomingly at them. Mark looks down in dismay at his clothes, forgetting what he is decked in for a moment and expecting to see his usual paint-spattered ratty t-shirts, faded distressed jeans and sneakers. He heaves a silent sigh of relief that he had had the good sense to wear a suit today. Hopefully no one notices it's not designer.  
  
Jaebum is smiling questioningly at him and Mark hurriedly climbs out, a little clumsily. He tugs gingerly at the hem of his suit tails and smooths his palm over his lapels as he follows Jaebum towards the hostess stand. Jaebum doesn't seem daunted by the grandeur as he strikes up a pleasant conversation with the hostess, who is almost immediately fluttering her eyelashes and smiling flirtatiously at him. "This way, sirs," she bows respectfully, guiding them into the restaurant and down the velvet carpeted corridor.  
  
As Jaebum promised, they are let into a private room and the hostess bows again, closing the sliding door behind her to give them privacy after leaving them to peruse the menus. Mark can't help studying Jaebum inquisitively over the top of his, until Jaebum looks up, raising one eyebrow. "What?"  
  
Mark drops his gaze, face warming. He hadn't realized Jaebum knew he was staring. "N-nothing," he stammers. "I was just thinking you probably come here a lot."  
  
"I do," Jaebum says simply, confirming Mark's suspicion with a brisk nod.  
  
His eyes widen at the prices that greet them as he scans the menu. If Jaebum is a frequent customer of this restaurant, it's apparent that he's pretty well-off, to say the least. Simply put, he's rich.  
  
Not that it's any of Mark's business. He feels the difference in their statuses like an invisible but widening crevasse opening between them, and presses his lips together mutely as he flips the pages of the menu, searching for the cheapest item.  
  
"Are you ready?" Jaebum asks after a few minutes, and Mark nods. Jaebum presses a button on the corner of the table and a different, but equally pretty waitress knocks and enters the room after no more than a few seconds. No doubt about it, the service is really different from McDonald's here.  
  
Jaebum orders a four-course set dinner, comprising appetizer, main course, dessert and coffee. In addition, he selects a bottle of wine from the wine list. Mark watches this with wide eyes but withholds judgement. At least Jaebum will be paying for everything himself.  
  
When the waitress looks expectantly at Mark, he feels a little sheepish as he shyly orders a lobster bisque and sparkling water. Both of them stare at him, as if waiting for him to continue, and Jaebum frowns minutely when he stops.  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"Um, yeah. I'm not really hungry." Mark slides the menu over to the waitress, hoping Jaebum will accept his flimsy excuse.  
  
He doesn't. "Have you eaten dinner?" Jaebum looks confused.  
  
"No," Mark admits hesitantly, unable to lie for some reason even though it will make things easier.  
  
At his words, Jaebum's gaze moves dismissively from his face to the waitress'. "He'll have the same as me," he says, and she nods approvingly, collects their menus and exits.  
  
Mark gapes at Jaebum. "I..." he swallows, his throat dry. "I don't have enough money," he croaks, face burning as he steels himself for Jaebum's pity.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Jaebum replies shortly, sure enough. "I'll take care of the bill."  
  
"I can't -- I can't make you pay for my dinner. I'll pay you back," Mark blurts out, grimacing.  
  
Jaebum meets his eyes, scrutinizing. "I'm not paying for it." He leans forward, voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm putting it on the company's tab."  
  
"What?" Mark blinks. Up close, Jaebum's eyes are dark and long-lashed, gleaming. He leans back again and laughs, throwing back his head.  
  
"I can't afford such a pricey meal either," Jaebum admits, a mischievous sparkle entering his eye.  
  
"Then why did you bring me here?" Mark gasps.  
  
Jaebum shrugs. "I guess... I just thought someone like you deserves to eat in such a place. Instead of fast food restaurants, I can picture you in fancy Parisian cafes, sketching the passersby at a table by the window as you sip a latte."  
  
"Someone like me?" Mark repeats, confounded.  
  
Jaebum gestures vaguely. "You know... an artist."  
  
Mark cocks an eyebrow at him. "You haven't even seen my art."  
  
Jaebum leans forward on the table with a challenging glint in his eye. "Who says I haven't?"  
  
Mark's mouth falls open. "You have?"  
  
Jaebum smiles, drumming his fingers on the table. "I always do my research before meeting anyone I work with."  
  
Mark blushes, wanting to ask what Jaebum thought of his work but not having the nerve to. Instead he babbles, "So when you said you come here often..."  
  
"For work," Jaebum clarifies, looking at Mark indulgently. "I wish I could say I dine here often -- but I'm just an ordinary salaryman struggling to make ends meet." He shrugs.  
  
 _Could've fooled me_ , Mark thinks but doesn't say. He runs his eyes down Jaebum's charcoal suit which could pass as Armani as the waitress enters again, bearing the wine in a bucket of ice. She opens the bottle and pours the burgundy liquid into two crystal glasses. Jaebum favours her with a smile of thanks as she leaves again. Mark has noticed that he's noticeably more generous with his smiles towards ladies as opposed to men, but he supposes that's only natural.  
  
As Jaebum takes a small sip of his wine, tasting it delicately, Mark fumbles to open his bag and pulls out his portfolio of sketches. He places it on the table and Jaebum's eyes are serious again as he puts his glass down and opens the file, donning a pair of wire-rimmed reading spectacles to browse through Mark's work.  
  
Mark can't tell what he thinks as Jaebum studies each sketch closely but inscrutably. But after a few minutes, his finger pauses on one of Mark's personal favourites -- a remarkably realistic and four-dimensional reproduction of his phone he had done in a rare burst of inspiration.  
  
Jaebum slides the piece of stiff paper out and looks at it thoughtfully. "We're looking for something similar to this," he says, meeting Mark's eyes again.  
  
Mark quickly takes a sip of his wine to wet his lips and stall for time, hoping his fingers don't tremble. "That was done a few months ago... I don't know if I can.... do it again."  
  
Jaebum's brow creases, but his voice is gentle as he says, "It's alright. It doesn't have to be exactly the same. Just do whatever you feel comfortable with and interpret the concept your own way."  
  
"But..."  
  
"I have confidence in you," Jaebum says quietly, his voice a few degrees warmer than it's been all night.  
  
There's a knock and the waitress glides in, bearing their food. Jaebum puts his spectacles and Mark's rough sketches away, aligning them with careful fingers back into the portfolio, as if they're precious and can't be damaged, and Mark is moved by the respect in his actions.  
  
One side of his lips curves up in a playful smirk as he meets Mark's eyes over the delectable food. "Dig in," he urges, and Mark takes a deep breath and does.  
  
  
  
Contrary to clients who usually request to meet up, Jaebum doesn't seem to have very strict or specific expectations and guidelines. He does run through the basic idea of what the advertising campaign is about over leisurely-sipped cups of coffee and dessert after they finish their meal, briefing Mark on the steps they will have to take before the completed advertisement finally hits the big screen over the remaining dregs of wine in the bottle. Mark is only involved in the first, initial process, and he never thought that filming an advertisement was such a tedious and painstaking production.  
  
"Are you in charge of the rest?" he asks, and Jaebum inclines his head modestly. "I kind of oversee everything."  
  
"Wow." Mark rounds his mouth in a silent 'o', awed. Jaebum looks embarrassed. "It's not as complicated as it looks," he says self-deprecatingly. "Or maybe I'm just used to it."  
  
Mark feels a renewed sense of purpose and determination. "I'll do my best to help you," he promises fervently. It's frankly the least he can do, with how much room for creativity and trust Jaebum is giving him. Mark knows he's fortunate to get a client who is not nitpicky and allows him freedom to call the shots.  
  
Jaebum chuckles. "That's good," he says, voice deep. "But don't wear yourself out. I'm sure whatever you produce will be fantastic."  
  
He's a surprisingly slick talker, making Mark blush with his smooth compliments, but then again he's not that surprised since Jaebum works in advertising. It's practically a prerequisite for him to be glib.  
  
  
  
When Mark has tipped the last drop of wine down his throat and his belly is more blissfully bloated than it has been in a while, he checks his phone under the table, startled to see that it's past nine. The hours have flown by unnoticed.  
  
Jaebum calls for the cheque, placing a black AmEx card onto the folder without glancing at the bill. Mark gulps. "You won't get in trouble for spending too much, will you?" he hesitates, wondering why he's so concerned.  
  
Jaebum laughs, looking amused. "Nah," he says. "I told you, I take our freelance artists here a lot."  
  
Mark's stomach churns uncomfortably. He doesn't know why he feels slightly bitter that Jaebum entertains other people he works with here, that this is merely routine for him and Mark is nothing special. What else did he expect?  
  
Jaebum picks up his suit jacket, draping it over his arm as they get up and leave. Mark stretches his stiff legs and joints, smiling shyly at their waitress and hostess as they make their way out. Jaebum smiles charmingly at them too, smoothly replying their polite questions about whether the food was to their satisfaction.  
  
When they step out into the chilly night air, a breeze lifts the edges of Mark's hair. He stifles a shiver at the sudden cold draft, and jumps a little when he feels a jacket being draped around his shoulder.  
  
He turns around tentatively to look searchingly at Jaebum, who is striding ahead to his car in only his white work shirt and tie. Is this part of the entertaining the artists thing, too? Mark can't tell, but he pulls Jaebum's jacket closer over his shoulders as it slips precariously. It retains the slight temperature of Jaebum's skin and smells pleasantly of expensive musky cologne.  
  
  
  
"Where do you live?" Jaebum asks conversationally once they're in the car and turning out of the carpark. "I'll take you home."  
  
"There's no need! I can take the train or a cab," Mark hastily replies, unwilling to impose even more on Jaebum than he already has.  
  
Jaebum laughs, but not unkindly. "You said you don't have much cash, right?" There's a teasing note in his voice. "It's alright. I can drop you off along the way home."  
  
"How do you know my house is on your way?" Mark argues feebly, but gives Jaebum his address without much protest.  
  
Jaebum turns the volume of the car stereo system up and they listen to classical orchestral music for the rest of the trip back. Mark is pleasantly drowsy and almost drifts into a shallow doze until Jaebum pulls up outside the lobby of his apartment. He pulls the brake back and turns to face Mark, still unsmiling but eyes significantly warmer than they were when they met four hours earlier that evening. "I'll text you my number," he says by way of parting. "Call me anytime if you have any questions."  
  
"You have my number?"  
  
"I got it from Jinyoung-sshi."  
  
The casual familiarity with which Jaebum says Jinyoung's name makes Mark want to ask if they're friends, but he bites back the question. It's none of his business, and it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Jinyoung to be on friendly terms with the clients. Maybe it's not even the first time he's worked with Jaebum's company.  
  
Instead, he just nods wordlessly and climbs out of Jaebum's car, resisting the urge to look back as he ambles into his apartment lobby and takes the elevator up to his studio.  
  
  
  
He finds a reply in Jinyoung's LINE conversation when he gets back. "Good luck!" It reads. "Im Jaebum is notorious for being difficult to please. Don't take it too personally."  
  
Mark's eyebrows shoot up, confused. Is Jinyoung talking about the same person he met? Because Jaebum was the farthest from difficult that Mark has ever met. He has encountered difficult clients before, and they can be much more trying than this. He summarizes this in a few words, texting back to Jinyoung when his phone beeps as he sends it off.  
  
It's from an unknown number, and simply reads, "Good night. Im Jaebum."  
  
As he saves the number into his contact list Mark feels his lips tugging up at Jaebum's distant tone, which translates coolly in message form. But even from his brief interaction with Jaebum, he can tell that the frosty vibe stems in fact more from awkwardness than brusqueness. Even in real life, Jaebum is unadept at expressing himself verbally. It contrasts enigmatically with his confident, glib speech and Mark ponders on this paradox as he tugs the noose of his tie loose and unbuttons his shirt lazily, crashing onto the pull-out couch. He's tired and the alcohol has only just seemed to hit, making his head swim in an addled daze of cottony inebriation.  
  
As Mark drifts off to sleep in the moonlight, his last thoughts are of Jaebum.  
  
  
  
The next morning, he is woken by his noisy ringtone. It seems to be becoming a pattern and Jinyoung sounds equally judgmental as Mark answers the phone groggily, his mouth parched and his head throbbing with a hangover. "Are you still sleeping again?"  
  
Mark pulls his phone back to glance at the time. "It's only ten," he counters defensively, avoiding Jinyoung's question.  
  
Jinyoung sighs patiently. "I know you're pretty much nocturnal, hyung, but did you forget you just got a new assignment? Not that I want to give you pressure or anything, but this ad campaign is really important. It's actually one of the biggest jobs our company has gotten in awhile."  
  
Mark sits up, stomach turning over. "Well, that's comforting information," he grouches, ignoring the familiar dread creeping into the back of his mind. Now is a worse time than ever to mention to Jinyoung that he has no confidence he can handle this successfully.  
  
"Anyways," Jiyoung continues, thankfully interrupting him so Mark doesn't have to reply, "I said I'd call you when I'm less busy. I have some time today, do you want to meet up? We can discuss what the client wanted when you met him yesterday."  
  
"Im Jaebum?" Mark blurts out. Saying the name makes something flutter below his ribs, to his bewilderment.  
  
Jinyoung hums in confirmation. "What was that message you sent me last night that I must've gotten the wrong person and he's a nice guy?" he teases, and Mark can practically hear his smirk over the phone. "You need to give me deets in real life," Jinyoung commands, and promptly hangs up. Mark has barely hung up his own phone when it buzzes again with the venue and time Jinyoung wants to meet. It's in less than an hour at a cafe they frequent and Mark groans as he hauls himself up from the couch and stumbles to the bathroom, tugging at his tight collar.  
  
  
  
Jinyoung bursts out laughing in disbelief when Mark approaches the booth by the window where he's already nursing his favourite caramel macchiato with whipped cream.  
  
"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" he screeches in a low voice.  
  
Mark grumbles and pulls them off, Jinyoung's eyes widening at his red-rimmed eyes and panda-like eyebags. He squints as the sun rays pierce his retinas painfully. "I have a major hangover."  
  
"Dude." Jinyoung shakes his head. "How much did you drink last night?"  
  
"... Half a bottle?"  
  
"Are you serious? With the client?"  
  
Mark bites his lip. "Is that inappropriate?"  
  
"Hell, yeah. You were supposed to be talking business, not entertaining him."  
  
Mark shrugs helplessly. "He ordered it," he says in weak defense.  
  
Jinyoung narrows his eyes at him. "You mean the most infamous pain in the ass in the advertising industry, Im Jaebum?"  
  
"Pain in the ass?" Mark repeats, frowning. "Wait, do you know him?"  
  
"We're acquaintances, but I don't know him that well," Jinyoung answers flippantly. "Of course, he's civil to me because we don't work together. But he's known for his punishing standards and sky-high expectations, so I was a little worried he'd put you over the grills."  
  
Mark shakes his head, too lost for words to speak yet. "He didn't."  
  
Jinyoung purses his lips thoughtfully. "Well, that's a relief."  
  
"Why?" Mark rejoins inanely as Jinyoung gestures to the waiter to take Mark's order.  
  
Jinyoung winks. "If he did, I'd have someone to hunt down."  
  
  
  
Mark has fun over lunch, as he always does with Jinyoung. They discuss work and Jinyoung is his usual enthusiastic and professional self as he listens to Mark's recap of Jaebum's briefing and offers suggestions and opinions, but they spend an equal amount of time chatting about everything and nothing at all. It's been awhile since he met Jinyoung, and Mark had forgotten what an entertaining and fascinating conversationalist Jinyoung is.  
  
But as he takes the subway home, Mark is surprised to realize that his dinner with Jaebum the previous night had been no less fun, even though it had been a business one. Jaebum is much less chatty and verbose than Jinyoung, more droll and pensive. He doesn't display his sense of humour often, but Mark had sensed even from their short time together that Jaebum definitely had one. More than that, the warmth in Jaebum's eyes and his reassuring smile spoke more than any volume of words could say.  
  
Mark looks down at his phone and finds his thumb scrolling mindlessly over Jaebum's message in his inbox. Nostalgically... caressingly. Suddenly, his finger slips and Mark muffles a gasp to see that he has accidentally pressed the call button.  
  
He hurriedly jabs at end call with clammy fingers, and the phone nearly jumps out his hands when it vibrates a minute later with Jaebum's contact flashing across the screen.  
  
Mark's heart thuds in his ears, frantically vacillating between answering and ignoring. Eventually, he lifts the phone to his ear with an unsteady hand.  
  
"Mark-sshi?" Jaebum's voice filters into his ear, and Mark gulps loudly. "H-hi, um... Sorry, I accidentally called you."  
  
There is a pause, before Jaebum echoes, "Accidentally?" It might be Mark's imagination but his voice sounds a little less warm than a second before, a little more... disappointed.  
  
"Er... yeah," Mark stutters. "B-but!" he has no idea why he says the words he does next. "I was meaning to call you!"  
  
There is another awkward pause, before Jaebum says quietly, "Really?"  
  
The undisguised hopefulness and pleasure in his voice makes Mark's heart leap into his throat.  
  
"Why?" Jaebum continues swiftly, eagerly, without waiting for his answer.  
  
"Um..." Mark fumbles for a reason. "I have some questions regarding the... colouring," he finishes lamely.  
  
"Colouring?" Jaebum sounds confused. "You've finished the sketches so fast?"  
  
"No!" Mark bites his tongue before he reveals that he hasn't even started brainstorming. "I just..." he trails off, unable to think of anything coherent to add.  
  
Mercifully, Jaebum doesn't seem to mind his transparent fabrication, instead taking over the conversation without missing a beat. "Do you want to meet up?"  
  
"At McDonald's?" Mark blurts out before he can think. He has no idea what possessed him to say that, but a thrill runs up his spine as Jaebum breaks into a peal of appreciative laughter.  
  
"Why not?" he throws back, and Mark finds his face aching with a huge stupid grin as he hangs up.  
  
  
  
At the rate he's dining out since he got this assignment, Mark thinks wryly as he drums his fingers over the linoleum table in the fast food restaurant nervously, he'll never get any work done by the deadline. He's a little amused at how his usually hopelessly dull social life has seemed to be looking up since the day before. He hadn't even had time to do some quick preliminary rough work when he got back from meeting Jinyoung before he had to leave the house again to meet Jaebum. But he had wanted to get at least a little started, if only so he could tell Jaebum without lying that he had begun.  
  
Jaebum dashes through the doors at a quarter past six, looking breathless and slightly out of place in the gaudy restaurant in his impeccable suit and tie, pitch black today. But when he comes closer, Mark feels a laugh bubbling in his throat to see that Jaebum's tie is royal blue with tiny patterns of cats on it, which look like stripes from afar. His hair is windswept, a few wisps falling over his forehead from his styled and moussed coiffeure, his face flushed and eyes bright with exertion.  
  
"Nice tie," Mark deadpans, and Jaebum breaks into a smile, seeming inordinately pleased that Mark had noticed it. "It's my favourite," he reveals.  
  
Mark motions to the queue at the counter. "Do you want to go order?"  
  
"I'll go," Jaebum says quickly, looking sheepish and apologetic. "Sorry I'm late. You must be famished. What would you like?"  
  
His chivalry is no less disarming than the day before, and Mark tells himself sternly that this is merely Jaebum's work ethic as he replies, "I'm easy. Just get me what you're getting."  
  
Jaebum nods and turns to weave gracefully between the maze of kid-sized tables and chairs towards the counter.  
  
Mark takes out his phone to diguise the fact that he's discreetly watching Jaebum with his hands shoved in his pockets as he scans the overhead menu, patiently waiting for his turn. Even in a fast food restaurant, Jaebum's stately poise turns heads.  
  
Gradually, he gets absorbed into a rapidfire exchange of messages with Jinyoung, who is spamming him with stickers on LINE simultaneously. The moment Mark had mentioned he was out with Jaebum for dinner, Jinyoung had fired a successive stream of excited messages at him demanding details. Mark finds out why when he asks where Jinyoung is and gets the less enthusiastic reply that he's home alone and bored.  
  
He is trying to cope with the influx of messages, replying all of Jinyoung's questions as best he can and even making the effort to select a few Rilakkuma stickers, knowing it will make Jinyoung smile. The click of a tray on the table makes him look up to see Jaebum placing an overflowing tray laden with food before him and settling down on the chair opposite Mark.  
  
"Playing a game?" Jaebum remarks casually, smiling as he hands Mark a burger and unwraps one himself. Mark takes it gratefully and slides his phone to the side of the table for the moment.  
  
He shakes his head. "Texting." His phone promptly buzzes with Jinyoung's reply. Two replies. Three.  
  
"Your girlfriend?" Jaebum quirks an eyebrow quizzically, and Mark hurriedly replies, blushing, "Nope, Jinyoung."  
  
Jaebum's smile slips a bit, and Mark wonders if he has something against Jinyoung he doesn't know about. But Jaebum just says, "Oh." and looks down at the table, taking a big bite of his burger.  
  
Mark nibbles on his own Quarter Pounder awkwardly, the texture of the buns chafing as it gets stuck in his throat. He takes a sip of Coke to soften it.  
  
Mark had only asked for a basic meal with a drink and fries, but Jaebum had ordered much more, nuggets and even a chocolate sundae. But strangely, Mark doesn't feel offended by his lavish spending. It's only McDonald's, after all. And Jaebum had paid for everything again.  
  
Abruptly remembering this, he puts down his burger and digs into his pocket, fishing out his tattered wallet, and tries to slip a few notes across the table to Jaebum to pay for his share. But the corner of Jaebum's mouth twists down with displeasure.  
  
"Mark, please," he says, gently but firmly pushing the money back. "I can afford this."  
  
The sound of his name in Jaebum's voice, for the third time since they met but in an entirely different tone from the first two, makes something unidentifiable stir deep inside Mark. Not trusting himself to speak, he obediently tucks the cash back into his wallet and resumes eating.  
  
After he's crumpled his burger wrapper and is leisurely dragging fries through a puddle of ketchup and popping them into his mouth, his phone vibrates again with a fourth message. This time, Mark feels slightly relieved because they've somehow sunken into a wordless silence and Jinyoung's message is a welcome interruption.  
  
But when he picks up his phone, he finds that it is not from Jinyoung but his junior from art school, Yugyeom. "Hyung, can I stay over tonight?" it reads, with a cute pleading emoticon.  
  
Mark chuckles before he can help it, and quickly silences himself as he rushes out a short reply to Yugyeom: "Sure, just let yourself in. I'll be back soon."  
  
Mark is barely done sending the message when Jaebum's hand flashes in front of him. He's still blinking, dazed and confused, before he registers that Jaebum has snatched the phone from his hand and is staring at the screen, looking pissed for some reason.  
  
Mark is still looking uncomprehendingly between his empty hand and Jaebum holding his phone, unable to believe that Jaebum would do something so downright rude and out of character, when they've only just met yesterday for work. It's inexplicable and incomprehensible, a total breach of protocol and acceptable behavior, especially for Jaebum who has been nothing but exceedingly polite and professional since they met -- but for some mysterious reason, Jaebum has.  
  
Just when Mark has reached this realization, Jaebum grabs his hand with rough fingers and shoves the phone back into his palm. Mark looks up to see Jaebum getting to his feet, towering over him and picking up his tray, stalking over to the dustbin without a backward glance to dump the remains of his meal.  
  
Mark is still clutching his phone, dumbfounded, when Jaebum strides back to the table, his easy smile nowhere to be seen. He picks up his briefcase and looks down at Mark expressionlessly. "I won't keep you since you have somewhere to be. You can email me the questions you wanted to ask me. I'll text you my email address."  
  
And with that, he swivels on his heel and leaves Mark sitting alone in McDonald's watching him walk out the doors.  
  
  
  
But Jaebum doesn't text him his email. Even after Mark reaches home and spends most of the night on the pull-out couch staring despondently at his phone while Yugyeom snores on his bed; even after Yugyeom has left with a happy-go-lucky goodbye and a promise to drop by again soon; even after Mark spends the rest of the afternoon working furiously on his steadily developing sketch and refusing to give in to the urge to check his sedate phone once.  
  
It's not like Jaebum to be forgetful. Everything he had told Mark he would do so far, he has done immediately. So Mark can only be left to conclude that Jaebum is deliberately not texting him his email. Because he doesn't want Mark to email him.  
  
The thought makes a cold disappointed shiver plunge down Mark's innards.  
  
He feels rejected, humiliated, rebuffed. He feels patronized, like Jaebum had just fed Mark a line to get him off his back because he couldn't stand Mark bothering him with dumb and ignorant questions a second longer. Jaebum had probably found him pesky and annoying, interrupting his important work, but been too nice to say so. Mark flushes hotly as it dawns on him how shameless his pestering had been. He shouldn't have taken Jaebum at his word when he said that Mark could ask him anything, anytime.  
  
It was just that he had been so approachable -- so warm and friendly. He had genuinely seemed to like talking to Mark. But Mark should probably have realized that it was all a veneer, a mask put on to please clients and colleagues. It had felt too good to be true from the start that Jaebum was so nice, especially when Jinyoung had told Mark of his reputation.  
  
  
  
The thought vaguely flits through Mark's mind that he could text Jaebum to remind him of his promise to send him his email address. Only for the briefest second, though. Mark can't bring himself to be so oblivious, more shameless than he's already been. His pride surges up fiercely inside him, along with a wave of something that feels like anger. If Jaebum wants to, he'll contact him. No way in hell is Mark going to make the first move this time.  
  
But as his sketch progresses, slowly but surely, inevitably questions arise. Mark has some doubts he needs to clarify and he doesn't want to make a misstep and ruin the piece he has been working on for so long and put so much effort into.  
  
Eventually, he gives in and texts Jinyoung for help. He types out a list of his queries and asks Jinyoung to do him the favour of forwarding them to Jaebum. To Jinyoung's credit, he doesn't ask too much about why Mark doesn't text Jaebum directly and obligingly helps.  
  
  
  
Mark is woken again by his phone buzzing -- but this time it's not in the morning but the middle of the night. The neon digits on the glow-in-the-dark clock on his bedside table read 3.51. Mark squints awake disorientedly, running a hand through his tangle of hair as he fumbles for his phone.  
  
His heart skips a lurching beat, immediately wide awake when he sees Jaebum's name on his screen. The message is short, just one line and he hasn't answered any of Mark's questions. It just says, "Dont ever ask anyone to help you talk to me again"  
  
 _What the fuck?_ is Mark's first instinctive thought. Jaebum had been the one who had irresponsibly not sent Mark his email as promised. What did he expect Mark to do? His heart is slamming against his ribs, his fingers tightening on the phone. He has no idea what to reply or even whether to reply. The words leap out at him from the screen, forboding and forbidding, making Jaebum sound more furious than he probably is.  
  
Mark's hands are shaking as the phone slips from them onto his covers, and he climbs out of bed, now restless and unable to sleep. His head is spinning, mind racing. He can't wrap it around the way Jaebum is acting. It makes no sense because they've only met twice. They literally know nothing about each other. They're not even friends. What right does Jaebum have to flare up, on two occasions, about Mark's other friends?  
  
But the real question is: why is Mark's heartbeat hammering shallowly, his stomach twisted in knots, something in his chest flipping and flopping like a fish out of water?  
  
Mark grabs his phone, latching on to the rise of his temper before he loses his nerve, ready to pound out a reply chastising Jaebum for acting out of line and setting him back in his place. But when he unlocks the screen, the new message on it makes all his racing thoughts vanish from his mind.  
  
Because it's Jaebum again. But this time, it just reads, "Sorry. Ignore that. I'm drunk."  
  
  
  
Mark spends the rest of the night reading and rereading Jaebum's first message. It's kind of pathetic really because how many times can a person scrutinize and dissect eleven words? But belatedly Mark realizes a few details he had neglected to notice. Firstly, there was no full stop at the end of the sentence as he had initially thought. Secondly, there was no apostrophe in the Don't, which was probably the most telling slip. Jaebum's messages were always properly capitalized, grammatically and punctuationally accurate. Mark should've known from the start that he wasn't in a sober frame of mind from the carelessness of the words.  
  
He wonders how he could have in any way interpreted the message as livid or rude when it was obviously desperate. But even after hours, he still has absolutely no clue what to reply.  
  
As the dawn slowly encroaches and the salmon shadows of the rising sun creep up his walls, Mark wonders if Jaebum had managed to fall asleep after his second message or been up all night like him too, waiting for Mark's reply. Waiting for Mark's forgiveness.  
  
At this thought, he sits up quickly, grabbing his phone. No matter how offended he was by Jaebum's first message, he should've replied the second, evidently contrite one. Mark crosses his fingers as he regrets keeping Jaebum in suspense about whether he had permanently soured their relationship as he hastily types with shaky and sweaty fingers, "It's OK."  
  
After he sends the two words out, Mark leans his head against the wall, sitting in bed and feels sapped of energy. He knows he should probably respond to the other things Jaebum said but he can't find the words to and his brain seems to be temporarily blank. His phone doesn't buzz any more and Mark feels a strange and unfamiliar loneliness stealing up over him as he lays down stiffly on his pillow and tries to get some sleep.  
  
  
  
When Mark checks his email that evening, his chest clenches to see a reply from Jaebum. It is long and detailed, answering all of Mark's questions succintly and leaving nothing else unclarified. It is truthfully very illuminating, and Mark is relieved at least for the sake of his work as he diligently takes down notes.  
  
He doesn't reply the email, closing it and putting all thoughts out of his mind for a few hours as he works on his artwork with Jaebum's latest advice. But he is aware at the back of his mind that sooner or later, he has to face it and at least have the courtesy to thank Jaebum for his email. They're still work partners and he doesn't want Jaebum to think that Mark hates him or anything. He's just really confused right now and needs some time to sort out his feelings.  
  
Mark isn't exactly the most sensitive person in the world, but he doesn't have to be to sense that the email is an olive branch Jaebum is extending, an offer of peace. So as he's eating a microwave dinner, Mark taps out a short but polite text letting Jaebum know that he received his email and thanking him for answering the questions.  
  
Jaebum replies almost instantly, making Mark's fork drop with a clink. "Where are you now?" his message reads, cryptically.  
  
Mark hesitates -- but just for a second -- before he screws caution and impulsively replies, "At home."  
  
He forces the rest of the food done his throat, feeling queasy, then does the dishes with his ears pricked up. But still, he jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings twenty minutes later.  
  
  
  
When Mark opens the door, Jaebum is standing outside, looking breathless and flushed and frustrated, panting slightly as if he's run all the way here.  
  
Jaebum's hands are braced on the doorframe, his powerful body filling it, blocking out everything behind him, and Mark feels a shiver run down his spine. He swallows, hard. "W...what are you doing here?" he rasps, barely above a whisper.  
  
He can feel how wide and shocked his eyes are and he blinks rapidly, trying to recover. Jaebum looks equally off-kilter and emotionally unstable as he runs a hand through his perfectly slicked-back hair, messing it up. "I don't know," he says, voice hoarse and pained. "I just... I've been a mess." His voice cracks. "A fucking mess since I met you and --" Without warning, his hands move to Mark's shoulders, gripping them tightly and shaking him as his blazing eyes drill into Mark. "Tell me, Mark-yah," Jaebum pleads. "Tell me I'm not the only one feeling this."  
  
Jaebum's eyes burn into his, begging, imploring with a wordless plea. His fingertips dig painful bruises into Mark's shoulders and Mark feels himself being sucked into the depths of Jaebum's dark, intense eyes, falling endlessly.  
  
A lifetime of silence passes. Then Mark whispers, Jaebum's hands slackening over his arms with each word, a sharp intake of breath hissing between his teeth: "You're not."  
  
Jaebum staggers a step back, his shoulders dipping into himself as if dealt a heavy blow. His eyes glimmer with something that makes Mark's breath catch in his throat -- something like agonizing hope, something like utter devastation.  
  
Mark thinks of the rollercoaster ride the past few weeks have been since he met Jaebum -- ups and downs, the highest highs and the lowest lows -- Jaebum had taught him to feel all of them. He thinks of 2AM, staring helplessly at the screen of his phone in the dark, reading and obssessing over the same message again and again like an infatuated teenage girl. How one word could send him soaring to the skies or crashing down to painful reality. He thinks of the blunt tip of his pencil racing over the blank page of his sketchpad, so smoothly and effortlessly it seemed to glide like a knife through butter, with inspiration bursting like fireworks in his head and no sign of the artistic block he had been facing for months. Even though they had only met a few times, each of them, Jaebum had never failed to manage to shake him so deeply.  
  
He thinks of how he had known, for certain, that moment everything was illuminated in utter and crystalline clarity -- just minutes ago when Jaebum had said his name, _Mark-yah_ , in that husky, low voice of his, like melting honey, like molten sunshine. With such wistful and passionate desire that Mark's heart clenched into a fist.  
  
It all makes sense now. Mark is very attracted to Jaebum, both physically and emotionally. He likes Jaebum. A lot.  
  
But it's impossible because -- they're both guys, for fuck's sake. This is Seoul, fiercely conservative and traditional South Korea where Mark is a foreigner, not California where he had grown up and this had been accepted if not widespread. Jaebum probably isn't even gay. Neither is Mark.  
  
Which is exactly what he says, breaking the silence between them along with the connection of their gazes as he drops his own to the floor, steadfastly refusing to meet Jaebum's eyes again even as he feels them boring holes into the top of his head: "I'm not gay."  
  
Jaebum flinches, looking like he's been slapped, his face colouring visibly, and Mark immediately feels guilty for his bluntness. For all he knows Jaebum is a homosexual and he's just offended him.  
  
A mixture of relief and something else he can't identify floods him as Jaebum says quietly, "Me neither."  
  
Unnerved and disquieted, Mark rushes on ahead, babbling, "And the timing is all wrong."  
  
Jaebum stares at him, his eyes looking like a wounded dog's, before he reluctantly agrees. "I know. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and it's against the company rules to date colleagues. We might get fired... and this is my biggest project yet. My promotion is resting on it and I can't... We can't..." He breaks off, looking anguished.  
  
Mark puts a hand up, unable to listen any longer. "That's enough," he says, more sharply than he meant to. He softens his voice. "I understand."  
  
Jaebum is still gazing at him entreatingly, but Mark edges the door shut a centimetre. "This is dumb and crazy and fucked up," he says roughly, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "I'll forget this conversation ever happened. You should go," he says firmly, moving towards Jaebum as he takes a step back as if repelled.  
  
As Jaebum lets down his guard, Mark takes the chance to push the door closed. The moment it's shut, he collapses against it and wraps his arms around his shoulders, hugging himself tightly. He sinks down bonelessly to the ground and pulls his knees to his chest, this short of curling up into a fetal position. Distantly, he hears Jaebum pounding on the door above him, but all he wants and cares about is being left alone so he can nurse and lick his wounds in privacy.  
  
He ignores the loud knocking which seems to go on for what feels like a lifetime but is probably only minutes until Jaebum slams a final heavy palm onto Mark's door and gives up.  
  
 _I just broke up with my girlfriend_ , Jaebum's words echo in Mark's head like a broken tape on repeat. Mark grits his teeth as he buries his face in his hands. His blood boils and he feels like hitting someone, breaking something.  
  
Who is he kidding? Compared to Jaebum, he's a novice at handling jealousy.  
  
  
  
Sometime in the night, Mark dozes off from sheer exhaustion. He wakes up with a parched mouth and dry, cracked lips to find himself sprawled ungracefully over the pull-out couch which he had thankfully managed to stumble to before he crashed the previous night. The house is tranquil, serene, in ironic contrast to Mark's tumultous and heartbroken mood.  
  
He finds his phone hidden beneath some cushions. There is a text sent an hour ago, which didn't wake him up this time. His heart drops before he realizes it's from Jinyoung.  
  
"What happened?" it says, uncharacteristically serious without Jinyoung's usual emoticons galore. "Jaebum-sshi passed your case to someone else."  
  
Mark's heart plunges to his feet this time. He hadn't expected it was possible to feel worse than he already did. So this is how it is. Jaebum wants nothing to do with him. Mark knows that it's probably the better, less painful and awkward choice for everybody, but it still stings.  
  
"I don't know," he replies back carelessly, feeling hollow as he lets his phone fall.  
  
His phone buzzes almost instantaneously, making him start. "Did you do or say anything to offend him?" Jinyoung is demanding, panic palpable even through the phone.  
  
Mark takes pity on him. "I think he mentioned that he's busy. It's probably no big deal."  
  
Jinyoung doesn't reply, and Mark hopes that his reassurance is convincing. He spends the rest of the day dazedly staring into blank space and telling himself that he'll get off the couch and finish his sketch in an hour's time. But the hours wear on till evening without him moving a muscle.  
  
When Jinyoung replies, it's evening and Mark still hasn't had the energy to even go fix dinner. Jinyoung has texted him the name and number of the new person handling his project. Mark barely scans it before tossing the phone aside.

 

In the initial days, the heartbreak seems like a mountain that has settled over him, making it impossible to move, impossible to pick himself up and do anything. Everything seems meaningless and Mark just wants to wallow in the memory of Jaebum's equally heartbroken eyes, finding some perverse measure of comfort in his pain.  
  
But gradually, out of lack of choice more than anything else, he starts moving on. Jinyoung nags him until he agrees to arrange an appointment with the new executive he'll be collaborating with, one of Jaebum's subordinates no doubt. Jaebum had mentioned that this project was helmed by him.  
  
Against his lacklustre reservations, Mark is pleasantly surprised to gruffly find the new guy likeable and easy to work with, imperceptibly growing on him. Kunpimook "Just-call-me-Bambam" Bhuwakul has oversized anime eyes, an infectious laugh and smile almost as charming as Jaebum's. Almost. Mark meets him together with Jinyoung the first time, as Jinyoung is casual acquaintances with him (he seems to know everyone in some way) but they meet up alone subsequent times and Bambam quickly diffuses any awkwardness with his cold jokes and lame puns. Mark feels a special fondness for him because Bambam reminds him of himself when he had first moved to Seoul, a foreigner in a country far away from home, displaced but hopeful for the future.  
  
  
  
"I'm glad you've taken Bambam under your wing," Jinyoung tells him affectionately via Kakaotalk. "He really needs more friends in Korea."  
  
"Sorry I can't help," Mark replies. "My only other friend here is Yugyeom."  
  
"Introduce them then!!!!" Jinyoung volleys back enthusiastically, making Mark laugh at the number of exclamation marks. Honestly, Jinyoung is such a mother hen.  
  
"If he drops by," he answers vaguely. "I don't even know where he is most of the time."  
  
  
  
Coincidentally, Yugyeom swings by his house the following week, crashing onto Mark's couch with his usual style without any prior notice. Mark's standing agreement to put him up spontaneously is convenient for him because Mark is the only one of his friends who doesn't live with family. Mark doesn't mind because Yugyeom's friendship has been a great and irreplaceable source of warmth and comfort to him since he moved to Korea. Besides, no one can say no to Yugyeom, who is like a giant puppy dog, all liquid brown eyes, lanky frame and gangly sprawling legs. He had been the junior who worshipped Mark most in art school and never stopped.  
  
Yugyeom's visits to his apartment are sporadic and unpredictable, but every time he stops by Mark takes the opportunity to collaborate with him on a canvas -- sometimes it's splashes of colour, a collage of graffiti; others it's slashes of wildly unplanned brushstrokes, abstract but exhilarating. Occasionally when they need to practice their sketching skills they pose for each other, the only ones who are willing to stay still long enough to model for a portrait.  
  
Mark doesn't really have a concrete idea of what Yugyeom does for work except that he's a travelling artist, trekking from town to town, sometimes doing caricatures for a few stray pennies, others holing up in a cabin on a cliffside or mountaintop and spending long months painting the unpeopled scenery and wilderness. According to his tall tales, he has been to France, Italy, Europe and North America, but Mark knows well enough to take his bragging with a pinch of salt.  
  
Mark is always happy to see Yugyeom, despite his already cramped house becoming smaller and even more cluttered than it already is for awhile. Yugyeom livens up his home, his life, bringing with him bright vivid technicolour and loud, almost audible rainbow shades.  
  
  
  
"I made another friend in Korea," he tells Yugyeom offhandedly as they sprawl like couch potatoes on the sofa watching TV one evening, stuffing themselves with crisps. He can't hide the pride in his voice. Even after almost a decade, Mark still considers it a miracle when people here want to be friends with awkward, boring, monosyllabic him.  
  
"Really? Cool. Let's see him," Yugyeom replies like a doting father, not taking his eyes off the TV, and that's that. Mark asks Bambam to come over to his apartment the next day for their discussion and Bambam agrees readily.  
  
To his amusement, for the first time, they don't get any work done. It's surprising because Bambam is kind of a workaholic. He's immensely hardworking and always eager to prove himself, as passionate about advertising as Mark is about art. But that evening, he's so dazzled by Yugyeom that he forgets why he came to Mark's house in the first place.  
  
  
  
By the time the evening is over, Yugyeom has gotten Bambam drunk on some sort of dodgy rice liquor that Mark had refused to touch but Bambam had gamely taken big swigs of, made Bambam pose for a half-nude (topless) self-portrait (which was remarkably well-drawn considering Yugyeom was falling down drunk), and charmed the pants off Bambam (literally, since he ended up snoring on Mark's couch in only pink flamingo boxers).  
  
Mark texts the events of the day and updates Jinyoung on their rapidly and heartwarmingly blossoming friendship, feeling like a proud parent. Jinyoung coos like he's just given birth to a litter of beautiful kittens, even though he's not even present.  
  
"Take a picture for me," Jinyoung pleads, and Mark obligingly snaps a less-than-flattering selca of the two brats sprawled over each other in a tangle of limbs on his couch, snoring with their mouths open.  
  
"That is the cutest thing I have ever seen!" Jinyoung screams at him through Facetime the moment he sees the photo. "I'm coming over right now."  
  
"Wait, what?" Mark yelps too late, as the call ends.  
  
He sighs and halfheartedly tries to clear up some of the torn canvases and various food wrappers littered over the floor, cans of beer (Bambam's) and fake crystal glass (Yugyeom's, who pretentiously refused to drink anything but champagne but had slurped the beer right up when Mark poured it into the glass and lied that it was Chardonnay). The dubious bottle of rice liquor is alarmingly empty and emitting a questionable odour, but they look more asleep than unconscious from alcohol poisoning so Mark doesn't bother to worry.  
  
He is dragging the half-filled garbage bag into the small nook of his kitchen when the doorbell rings. Yugyeom stirs, disturbed by the noise and frowns as he mutters something indecipherable. Mark passes him as he stumbles through the living room towards the front door.  
  
The doorbell rings again as he hurries to open it. As Mark places his hand on the doorknob, he is knocked off balance by a heavy weight and turns, gasping to see that Yugyeom has gotten up, drawn by the noise and is teetering against him, arm hooked around Mark's shoulder. He hadn't realized Yugyeom had taken off his shirt too, probably because it was too hot.  
  
Mark sighs in exasperation but doesn't bother to peel Yugyeom off him, assuming it's Jinyoung outside. His jaw drops when he opens it to find Im Jaebum standing in the hallway, uncertain expression hardening and eyes narrowing dangerously when he sees Yugyeom hanging off Mark's shoulder, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.  
  
Mark gapes at him, speechless, unable to reconcile Im Jaebum and his front door. What on earth could he possibly be doing here? Before Mark can spit out the words, Jaebum is pushing roughly past him, knocking him off his feet and sending both him and Yugyeom sprawling precariously. At the last minute, Mark manages to regain both their balances, but he feels his toes curling in anger at how Jaebum had just literally barged into his house and rudely shoved him.  
  
Mark maneuvres Yugyeom onto the loveseat as gently as he can, leaving him slumped there before storming after Jaebum, who is striding across his living room like he owns the place.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Mark's voice is a pitch higher than he intended it to come out, sounding even more shrill as compared to Jaebum's which is an octave lower as he turns around and levels a blank stare at Mark. "Bambam texted me to get him."  
  
Mark flounders, stupefied for a moment before he gathers his wits and feels a tinge of relief. Being the considerate kid he is, Bambam must've taken to heart Mark's joke about his apartment being too small for three people to spend the night. It was understandable that he assumed Mark and Jaebum were friends since they had worked on the project together before he took over. At least Jaebum is aware that Bambam is here too, which means he knows Mark isn't alone with Yugyeom. "So you know who --" he starts, but Jaebum cuts him off sharply.  
  
"I don't want to know who that sleazebag is, and I don't give a fuck. It's none of my business who you want to sleep around with. I'm just sorry I believed your lie."  
  
"What - what lie?" Mark manages, the ground slipping out from beneath his feet.  
  
"That you're not gay," Jaebum spits out, peeling off his jacket to drape over Bambam's bare torso and hoisting his arm over his shoulder with a gentleness that is undetectable in his words.  
  
"I'm not! Yugyeom is my --" Mark protests hotly, but Jaebum just gives him a withering look that makes the rest of the sentence die on his lips. He half-drags, half-carries Bambam to the door and leaves without a backward glance, dismissing Mark callously.  
  
Mark stares after their retreating figures, stunned. He's still reeling from what just transpired and his mind is clouded by alcohol and anger and frustration and confusion but there's only one thing he knows for certain: It's been nearly a month since he last met Jaebum, but Mark is still terrifyingly drawn to him.  
  
  
  
When Jinyoung finds him ten minutes later, Mark is curled up against the wall with the door still hanging open, the breeze drafting in drying the teartracks on his cheeks as he breaks down noiselessly and Yugyeom slumbers obliviously on the loveseat.  
  
  
  
"What the fuck?" Jinyoung's shriek rings out through the apartment past midnight, jolting Yugyeom from his restless doze and making Mark hurriedly shush him from waking the neighbours.  
  
Jinyoung is outraged and implacable. "What the --" he hisses again, quieter but still sounding like a spitting wildcat. "How could you keep all this from me till now? I told you, didn't I? To tell me if anyone bullied you here."  
  
Jinyoung's face is drawn and pale with worry and sympathy, and Mark feels a lump in his throat. He had never appreciated Jinyoung's loyalty, always taking him for granted.  
  
"You're my best friend," he blurts out passionately, grabbing Jinyoung's hand as he brushes Mark's damp lashes with the pads of his fingers.  
  
Jinyoung's face finally softens at the words into his usual warm, kindly self. "Then why didn't you tell me?" he asks softly, pulling Mark into a forgiving hug.  
  
"I knew he was an asshole," Mark thinks he hears Jinyoung mutter grimly by his ear as he surrenders to the soothing rhythm of Jinyoung rubbing concentric circles into his back and coaxing him into a drained and mildly drunken slumber.  
  
  
  
He wakes up with an epic hangover the next day to find Jinyoung gone, Yugyeom still comatose, the house looking like the aftermath of a hurricane, and only one new text on his phone from Bambam. He sounds uncharacteristically subdued, unlike his usual boisterous self and Mark wonders with dread if Jaebum has said something to him. He swears grimly under his breath. If Jaebum tries to sow discord between him and Bambam, it's war.  
  
Bambam apologizes in his message for getting drunk in Mark's house the previous night, leaving his clothes there and not getting any of the work they had planned done. But since they're running on a tight schedule and can't afford to skip one session, he asks if Mark can come to the office today and catch up on what they missed out after he gets off work.  
  
Mark replies immediately, reassuring him that it's totally fine and that both him and Yugyeom had a good time the previous night. He adds that he has no schedules planned today and can drop by Bambam's office in the evening. He had thrown Bambam's clothes in the dryer because they reeked of beer and could bring it over then.  
  
Bambam replies promptly too, his relief touchingly apparent. He effusively insists that Mark doesn't have to go to the trouble of lugging the laundry to the office and he'll follow him home after the meeting to pick it up instead. It's heartwarming to know that Bambam treasures this friendship as much as Mark does. He also asks if Yugyeom is okay, and Mark stifles a chuckle at that. Jinyoung was right, those two brats are seriously adorable.  
  
  
  
At half past five, Mark cabs to the office building Bambam's advertising company is in. He tries to forget the last time he had been here, which was merely a few months ago but seems like a past lifetime now. His hands tighten on the straps of his bag as the lift moves up to seventh floor, thankfully empty. He had entertained the horrifying possibility of coincidentally meeting Jaebum here, but dismissed the likelihood as too low to be a concern. He can't wait to sequester himself in the conference room he arranged to meet Bambam in and finally relax.  
  
To his dismay, on the fifth floor, the doors open. And Mark's heart sinks to see, standing outside, none other than Im Jaebum, looking like his worst nightmare come true.  
  
Okay, maybe Mark is being overdramatic. There are worse things than this, but Mark can't think of anything more excruciatingly awkward as Jaebum steps into the lift, looking like he just swallowed a lemon too. He's probably too prideful to admit that Mark affects him and back down from entering the lift. As prideful as Mark.  
  
The two floors that ensue feel like a tiny lifetime. Jaebum steps in, standing beside Mark, an arm's length away, his sleeve momentarily brushing Mark's bare arm as they cross paths. The hairs on Mark's arms stand up, gooseflesh rising and Mark bites down a shudder.  
  
The first moment the lift doors had opened, Mark had vaguely registered something, and puzzled, he sneaks a stealthy glance from the corner of his eye to confirm it. Nope, he's not mistaken -- there's a bruise at the corner of Jaebum's lip. It looks painful.  
  
Mark shakes his head to clear his thoughts and tells himself sternly that it's none of his business. If someone hit Jaebum, he probably deserved it. There's no way that Mark is going to feel the slightest bit sorry for him. Neither does he care a single bit about who Jaebum was in a brawl with or why.  
  
The lift arrives on the seventh storey, doors opening with a ding. Mark hangs back, waiting for Jaebum to step out first, not wanting to brush against him accidentally again, but as Jaebum walks out he turns around abruptly to face Mark. Mark feels his eyes widen as Jaebum extracts his hand from his pocket where it was tucked. He instinctively shrinks away from the sheer size of Jaebum's hand, the leashed strength in the breadth of his knuckles and coarseness of his palm.  
  
Hurt flashes across Jaebum's eyes for an unguarded nanosecond, but his hand doesn't pause its ascent towards Mark's face. It settles on the slope of Mark's jaw and to Mark's utter mortification and shock Jaebum brushes his thumb gently, caressingly over Mark's cheek, grazing the corner of his lip briefly.  
  
Mark jerks away reflexively, his heart slamming like a sledgehammer. Jaebum's hand falls away to reveal a smudge of emerald green paint on his finger, and Mark recalls with horror and abject embarrassment that he had tripped and fallen over the garbage bag while rushing out of the house and landed in a stray palette of drying watercolours. He thought he had wiped everything off his cheek. Apparently not.  
  
Mark groans inwardly, the only response he can think of or muster to glare at Jaebum with hostile and reproachful eyes as he turns away coldly and forces himself to walk to the conference room without looking back.  
  
  
  
The ensuing hour of overtime work with Bambam is rather productive, but Mark's thoughts as they leave the office are far away. Bambam snaps a finger in front of his unfocused eyes, getting his attention. "Hyung, are you okay?" he looks concerned.  
  
"U-um, yeah. Sorry," Mark smiles sheepishly, flushing, and Bambam repeats his question. "Can I drop by your apartment to check on Yug-- I mean, pick up my clothes?"  
  
"Sure, no problem," Mark covers his smile, "Although he's probably still out like a log."  
  
Bambam smiles mischievously. "Don't worry. I know exactly how to wake him up."  
  
"Uhh... okay." Mark laughs, rolling his eyes and wisely choosing not to ask. "But play nice, kids." He ruffles Bambam's hair and squeaks with laughter when Bambam blows his top.  
  
"Oh right, that reminds me," Mark exclaims. "Jinyoung said he wanted to meet you guys last night, but by the time he came over you were gone and Yugyeom was asleep."  
  
Bambam lights up. "I wanna see Jinyoung-hyung too!" he clamours.  
  
Mark grins, foisting him off. "Okay, okay. Let's drop by his office on the way back and surprise him."  
  
"No, hyung!" Bambam pouts, stamping his foot. "I want to see Yugyeomie, now. He must be lonely at home by himself. You go pick up Jinyoung-hyung and bring him back," he orders imperiously.  
  
Mark gapes at him, but Bambam looks unapologetic in contrast to his usual impeccable manners. There's a devilish glint in his eye that makes Mark think that he might've misjudged his innocence.  
  
"Ugh," he groans unwillingly, grumbling under his breath. "Fine."  
  
Bambam whoops loudly and flings his arms around Mark in a bear hug. "Thanks, hyung! I'll wait for you at your apartment, then!" They part ways at the station, since they're heading in different directions. "Oh, and --" Bambam calls after a few steps, and Mark turns eagerly, thinking he'll offer to come along, but Bambam only smirks, batting his eyelashes. "Can you bring some pizza home?"  
  
  
  
When Mark strolls into Jinyoung's office without knocking, he's not surprised that Jinyoung is still sitting at his desk, working overtime with his glasses perched on his nose. What makes him inhale softly is seeing an unmistakable purplish swelling at the corner of Jinyoung's right eye, too obvious to hide even behind his glasses.  
  
Mark takes a step forward, and Jinyoung jumps visibly when he looks up to see him. "Shit," he says, hand flying up to cover his eye too late.  
  
"You..." Mark breathes. "You hit Jaebum?"  
  
"N-no," Jinyoung lies unconvincingly, looking faint, "It was someone else."  
  
Mark scoffs. "Come off it." He slams his palms down on Jinyoung's table, making him start and leans forward to stare evenly down at Jinyoung, who averts his gaze guiltily. "You know someone else who's left-handed besides Im Jaebum?" he challenges.  
  
Jinyoung swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, and finally gives up the pretense, taking up another tack.  
  
"He punched me," he whimpers grumpily, lowering his hand to show Mark his injured eye.  
  
"Who started it?" Mark fires back without sympathy, folding his arms and finding his answer in Jinyoung's sullen look.  
  
After a minute of loaded silence, Jinyoung bursts out, full of righteous indignation, "What else was I supposed to do? He hurt my best friend!"  
  
The words stop Mark's tirade cold. He doesn't know why he's being so harsh on Jinyoung, when he knows full well that Jinyoung was only acting in defense of him. But all Mark can think of is the painful-looking bruise on Jaebum's mouth, the way he winced almost imperceptibly as he tried and failed to scowl back at Mark after wiping away the paint. He can only imagine what Jaebum thinks about his and Jinyoung's relationship now. He probably thinks that Mark is a slut, a cocktease who leads men on and leaves them hanging.  
  
But why should he care about what Jaebum thinks at all? It's immaterial. He isn't duty-bound to have any more interactions with Jaebum, now that Bambam has replaced him. And in the short time they've known each other, Jaebum has jumped to conclusions way too often and insufferably. Good riddance to bad rubbish, Mark knows Jinyoung would say bluntly if he asked him.  
  
"Mark-hyung?" Jinyoung pipes up tentatively, rousing him from his daze. Mark snaps out of it to see Jinyoung gazing plaintively at him.  
  
"Are you mad at me?" he asks in a small voice, and Mark's anger melts away.  
  
"No," he says heavily, brushing a tender thumb over Jinyoung's bruise. "I know you did it for me. But next time, don't resort to violence, okay?"  
  
Jinyoung nods obediently, looking relieved and anxious as he leans his cheek into Mark's palm. "Why are you here? Is there a problem with the sketch?" he looks concerned suddenly.  
  
Mark laughs. "No, chill. You're such a workaholic," he teases. "I just wanted to pick you up from work. Bambam and Yugyeom are waiting for you at my house."  
  
Jinyoung leaps to his feet, his face illuminating like a lightbulb at his favourite dongsaengs' names. "Seriously?" he gushes. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Bambam's favourite pizza place closes at seven!" he admonishes, blowing past Mark and out the door, ignoring his wheezing laughter.  
  
  
  
It's kind of ridiculous, Mark thinks later, lying in his bed next to Jinyoung and staring at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan as the muffled noises of Yugyeom and Bambam watching cartoons in the living room drift through the walls, how Jaebum can fluster him into a wreck with just one gesture, his touch still burning on Mark's cheek like a fingerprint tattooed to his face, even hours later. The blistering sensation doesn't seem to be fading, only growing stronger the more Mark reminisces about it.  
  
Why had Jaebum done that? Mark has realized that the reason why he can't stop thinking about Jaebum is that almost all his actions stump Mark, that he can never predict what Jaebum is going to say next or what he is going to do. It's breathtakingly thrilling, dizzyingly unnerving, how Jaebum is the most frustratingly enigmatic person Mark has ever met. He compels Mark like a magnet, like a moth drawn uncontrollably to a lovelight.  
  
And the fact that Jaebum has all but admitted that Mark affects him too, shakes him up -- it's overwhelmingly heady, to say the least. Mark thinks of the intensity of Jaebum's dark, soulful eyes, the iron of his grip, the gentleness of his fingertips and the heat of his skin. He thinks of the way Jaebum makes his name sound like a caress, like something sacred and sacrosanct.  
  
Without being aware of it, the tears are falling again, soundlessly, unstoppably. Mark presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and tries to stem them to no avail. As if there's an endless reservoir behind his eyes, it continues its relentless flow, seeping through his fingers.  
  
He doesn't dare to make a noise, afraid to wake Jinyoung up. Minutes later, though, he feels gentle fingers firmly prying them off his face and Jinyoung looking tenderly down at him, his eyes glimmering in the dark.  
  
"Hyung," he says quietly, stroking Mark's damp hair back from his forehead. "What's wrong?"  
  
Mark bites his lip but his chin trembles anyway. He feels like an emotionally overwrought adolescent or hormonal pregnant woman -- has been behaving exactly like one ever since he met Im Jaebum. It's disgraceful.  
  
Jinyoung waits, tilting his head, until Mark can't hold back the dam anymore and blurts out, "Everything."  
  
In incoherent rambling punctuated by breathless hiccups, Mark finally confides in Jinyoung how this has magnified beyond his control, beyond his wildest imagination, into something unspeakable, unimaginably colossal. He has only met Jaebum a handful of times, but the depth of his feeling for him is something that is inexplicable and unbelievable. And it terrifies Mark beyond measure because he has never, in his twenty-nine years of life, ever felt this way before.  
  
It scares the shit out of Mark to admit it -- but it appears that he's desperately, madly and blindly in love with Im Jaebum.  
  
Jinyoung's face is pale in the moonlight. "Mark, you hardly know him," he argues reasonably. "He could be anyone -- a pervert, a creep, an asshole."  
  
"I know," Mark says grimly.  
  
"He's a guy."  
  
"I know."  
  
"He's probably, ninety-nine point nine percent, straight."  
  
"I know."  
  
"He's actually a certified asshole," Jinyoung states calmly.  
  
Mark snorts a humourless laugh. "I know."  
  
"But still...?" Jinyoung's voice is pitying.  
  
"I can't control it, Jinyoung. I feel like I'm going crazy. I can't fight it anymore." The words in his voice feel and sound like broken glass.  
  
Jinyoung falls silent for a few moments as he rubs Mark's back absently, apparently pondering the predicament pensively. Then Mark feels the bed dip, springs creaking as he rolls nimbly off. "Be right back. I'm gonna get you a cup of warm milk. It'll be easier to sleep if you drink some."  
  
"Thanks," Mark murmurs, squeezing Jinyoung's hand gratefully. Jinyoung squeezes his fingers back reassuringly, creaking the door open and slipping into the slice of light slanting through for a second before he closes it behind him again.  
  
Mark lies in the dark, his eyelids fluttering drowsily until he senses the passage of about ten minutes and Jinyoung finally enters the room again.  
  
Mark sits up on his elbows. "What took you so long?" he says petulantly. Jinyoung sits down beside him and switches on the table lamp as he carefully places the mug of milk on the bedside table.  
  
"I had to heat it up." In the dim lamplight, Jinyoung looks truimphant for some reason, probably a trick of Mark's imagination.  
  
Jinyoung fusses over him like he's an incapacitated patient, lifting the cup to Mark's lips and instructing him to sip it slowly. Mark obeys, content to leave himself in Jinyoung's skilful hands.  
  
He has finished almost all the milk when they hear a crash outside which Mark dimly identifies as the front door slamming. Their heads both swivel to the bedroom door, startled, and Mark jerks up so abruptly he would've spilled the drink if the cup were still full.  
  
"Shit," he mutters under his breath, his wide eyes meeting Jinyoung's alarmed ones. "I think I forgot to lock the front door. Do you think it's a burglar? The kids!" Mark flings aside the blanket, about to swing his legs off the bed and rush out to rescue Bambam and Yugyeom when the door of his bedroom bursts open.  
  
Mark's world tilts precariously on its axis for a moment to see Jaebum standing in his doorway, breathing hard, his eyes tight and frantic as they run swiftly down Mark's body and attire, then move suspiciously between him and Jinyoung and back. It's a scene that makes no sense at all and Mark momentarily wonders if this is a bizarre dream.  
  
Jinyoung sets the cup back on the bedside table, looking irritated but oddly more resigned than surprised, and Mark realizes what's so strange about the whole situation -- Jinyoung doesn't seem to find Jaebum's sudden appearance as unexpected as it is. Which could only mean...  
  
Mark swings his accusing, panicked gaze on Jinyoung, but before he can say anything Jaebum takes a few brisk steps towards them, glowering at Jinyoung with undisguised dislike. If looks could kill, Mark thinks Jinyoung would be cut to ribbons by Jaebum's bladelike glare by now.  
  
However, Jinyoung seems barely daunted, staring right back defiantly, his chin tilted up in silent challenge. His lip curls in a sneer of barely-concealed disdain too, showing how much he thinks of Jaebum. If Mark didn't know better he'd say Jinyoung was deliberately trying to provoke Jaebum into losing his temper, but that can't be. He had just promised Mark only this eveniing to abstain from violence from now on.  
  
Mark places a warning and placating hand on Jinyoung's arm, trying not to show his fear and shock at Jaebum barging into his house again at a time when Mark is most vulnerable and unprepared. Jaebum's eyes snap instantly towards Mark's hand on Jinyoung's arm, white hot rage flashing across them. Mark feels even more befuddled at how Jaebum seems to be overreacting.  
  
Jaebum doesn't seem to notice Mark's presence, instead spearing Jinyoung with both his eyes. "You lied to me," he fumes, voice threateningly low, and Mark shudders as he realizes the full extent of Jaebum's mood. He's seriously pissed this time. Like, livid.  
  
Mark blinks in confusion, unable to understand Jaebum's accusation. He nudges Jinyoung, shooting him a questioning glare but Jinyoung seems to understand Jaebum with no problems as he replies coolly, "I didn't."  
  
Jaebum inhales audibly at this, taking another step forward that makes Mark shrink back. His fingers curl and uncurl at his sides, knuckles on his trembling fists pale. "You dare to?" he intones, and all Mark can think is _Holy shit_ because this is starting to seem like the beginning of another round of fisticuffs and it does not look good.  
  
He is too distracted by his anxiety to notice Jinyoung's fingers closing over the nape of his neck, pulling Mark's face closer as he leans in -- but not before a large hand comes down between them like an erected wall and before he knows what's happening Jaebum has grabbed Jinyoung by the scruff of his collar and hauled him to his feet. "What's going on?" Mark yells, stumbling up too and physically shoving between them, placing either hands on both their chests and pushing them apart with difficulty. "I said no more fighting!" He turns on Jinyoung fiercely. "You promised me."  
  
At the words, the fire in Jinyoung's eyes subsides and he reluctantly drops his drawn-back fist but not his seething stare into Jaebum's equally smouldering eyes. This is starting to get ridiculous and Mark feels like the only adult amidst a bunch of kindergarteners.  
  
"Please tell me what's going on," he implores Jinyoung, because he's too cowardly to face Jaebum's darkening gaze. But he can feel the quickening of Jaebum's heartbeat beneath his palm resting lightly on Jaebum's chest, through the thin fabric of his shirt. Jaebum is dressed down in casual sweats today, hair disheveled, like he had rushed out of the house without bothering to change into streetwear. It's the first time Mark has seen him out of a suit, and he looks startlingly younger than usual.  
  
Jinyoung smirks, one side of his lips lifting. "I texted him that I was going to kiss you in ten minutes if he didn't appear."  
  
"You what?" Mark shrieks, his voice cracking embarrassingly.  
  
"You played me for a fool," Jaebum growls, voice still sounding unappeased, spoiling for a fight.  
  
"I was serious, you prick," Jinyoung shoots back antagonistically, unfazed by Jaebum's temper. "I don't think there's anybody in the world who would say no to kissing Mark-hyung." There's a teasing lilt to Jinyoung's voice, but he doesn't sound like he's lying entirely. Mark gapes at him but Jinyoung doesn't glance back, still looking at Jaebum. "But I think the question here is, why do you care? You don't... like Mark, do you?"  
  
Jaebum flushes hotly, his face splotchy even in the light of the table lamp. "Of course not," he snaps, making Mark flinch, and Jinyoung's lips curve into a feline smile like a cat watching a mouse walking into a trap.  
  
"Then what business is it of yours who Mark-hyung kisses?" He enunciates the words coolly, letting them hang in the air, making Jaebum look foolish with his own declaration.  
  
For the first time since Mark met him, Jaebum looks flustered, his collected and composed exterior slipping. Mark almost feels sorry for him as Jaebum swallows, seeming at a loss for words to retaliate and justify his presence. But only for a second before he bitterly remembers Jaebum's swift and certain denial. And besides, he's too preoccupied by his own swirling emotions, spiralling through him like a whirlwind.  
  
Jinyoung makes infuriating sense, as usual. Hadn't Jaebum been the one who said the words _We can't_? Where was that resolve now? The problem is that he's acting so irrationally, blowing hot then cold, aloof and then territorial, so fast it gives Mark whiplash, that he doesn't even have time to figure out how to respond and it's not fair. But Mark is starting to learn that Im Jaebum doesn't play fair.  
  
Even though he's pissed at Jinyoung for blindsiding him with Jaebum's arrival, butting into his affairs and not informing him about the text, Mark has no other choice than to take his side. "He's right," he hears himself blurting out harshly. "You wanted to sever our ties, and we have nothing more to do with each other. What me and Jinyoung do now doesn't concern you."  
  
This time, he grabs Jinyoung's shoulder, feeling a dim stab of guilt for using him to spite Jaebum, but Jinyoung doesn't seem to mind as he unresistingly leans closer too. Mark feels a surprising lack of revulsion as their faces move closer, just a sense of comfort that is the polar opposite of what Jaebum's proximity makes him feel. Maybe he is less heterosexual than he had always thought.  
  
"It does!" Jaebum explodes as his arm moves between them again like a steel bar, this time landing on Mark's shoulder. Mark shudders as Jaebum's hand locks around his upper arm painfully, wrenching Mark away to face him. Jaebum looks broken down, defeated and furious with himself, like the two words had been forced out of him.  
  
The thudding of Mark's heart is so deafening in his ears as he looks at Jaebum that he is sure both Jaebum and Jinyoung can hear it too. Jaebum runs a shaking hand through his hair and Mark licks his dry lips, wondering if they had gone too far. Jaebum looks terrified, his face pale and eyes stark and wild.  
  
"Why?" Jinyoung pipes up from beside him, and Mark nearly forgives his actions for that alone. Trust Jinyoung to wordlessly intuit what Mark is dying to say but doesn't have the guts to. Mark feels gratitude flooding him along with sheer terror of the next word that will fall from Jaebum's lips like a guillotine.  
  
But Jaebum doesn't spare Jinyoung a glance, still gazing hypnotically into Mark's eyes, unblinking. "Get out," he mutters under his breath, shooting Jinyoung a wilting glare that could level mountains, and Mark quivers on Jinyoung's behalf.  
  
"I'm not going to ask twice," Jaebum says curtly, louder, and Jinyoung jerks into motion, surprisingly obedient. Maybe Jaebum's frostiness is finally wearing him down. Or maybe this had been his plan from the start and he has achieved his aim of sending Jaebum that damned message. Probably the latter, if Mark knows Jinyoung well enough. They had played right into his ruse, Mark as much as Jaebum, but Mark doesn't really care as Jinyoung meekly trudges to the bedroom door and pulls it open.  
  
There is a tumult of squeaks and muffled _Ow_ s and both Mark and Jaebum spin around to see Yugyeom and Bambam tumblng over each other into an ungraceful heap through the open door. They quickly get to their feet, looking shamefaced and shifty, but more for being caught than the act of eavesdropping. Bambam's mouth falls open as his avid eyes land on Jinyoung's face. "Hyung, did you and Jaebum-hyung fight?"  
  
Yugyeom rolls his eyes incredulously and raps Bambam's head with a knuckle. "Idiot. Even I noticed that they already had the bruises when they came, and I was the one who was sleeping like a pig all day."  
  
"What?!" Bambam gasps, saucer-eyed, as if this is brand new information, and Jinyoung loses his patience with both of them as he elbows them bodily out of the room and follows, slamming the door shut with a bang that sounds like a wordless warning.  
  
Mark inhales softly as he abruptly finds himself alone with Jaebum in the room -- Jaebum whose mere presence feels like a physical blow; who towers over Mark, so powerfully-built that it makes Mark's knees buckle; whose undivided attention makes Mark feel like he's freefalling into a bottomless abyss and whose eyes make him feel like he's hit the nonexistent bottom hard and all the air is battered out of his lungs, asphyxiating.  
  
Jaebum is looking at him reproachfully, the blush on his cheeks fading into a delicious tinge of pink, looking helpless and vulnerable as if his defenses have been stripped from him. As if Mark has stripped his defenses from him and left him exposed and raw and naked.  
  
There's something mutely beseeching about his eyes that makes Mark feel the responsibility to muster the courage to break the silence, even though he's shaking in his boots.  
  
"What did you mean...?" he breathes hushedly, trying to read something in Jaebum's inscrutable eyes. "I thought you said we can't. You said we were breaking the rules." His voice comes out in a pained whisper, with shamefully undisguised anguish.  
  
Jaebum lowers his gaze as if humbled by Mark's intensity, his throat working as he swallows and says hoarsely. "I don't know," he admits, and the burn of Mark's shame recedes a little at the way Jaebum sounds as undone as him. "All I know is that when I saw that message, it was like I was blinded by a flash of white. I don't even know how I got here. And..." he says, reaching out apprehensively to tuck Mark's hair gently behind his ear, "We're not colleagues anymore."  
  
The four unremarkable words sound like a release in Jaebum's voice, a ray of hope and possibility.  
  
"Was that why you..." Mark trails off hopefully, unable to continue his question, but Jaebum understands his meaning thankfully.  
  
He chuckles drily and shakily. "I wish I could say that, but it would be a lie," he admits eventually. "The truth is that I was a mess, and still am. I did it out of selfishness. I couldn't face you. I tried to run away. I tried to stay away, God knows I did, but -- it didn't work."  
  
Jaebum is shaking his head at Mark, his eyes tight and worried like he's trying to warn Mark not to come any closer, but his hands speak a different meaning entirely as they tighten in the back of Mark's shirt, crushing him into his arms.  
  
Jaebum is so contrary, so undisciplined, so feckless and out-of-control, but that's exactly what Mark finds so exhilaratingly breathtaking about him. The disparity between his actions and feelings speaks to something deep inside Mark, stirs his heartstrings with the adrenaline of hotblooded impulse.  
  
Deep down inside, like him, Jaebum is a risk-taker as well, someone who follows his instincts and trusts his heart over his mind. And this time, Mark isn't alone. He has finally found someone willing to take this leap of reckless faith together.  
  
"What about you?" Jaebum whispers, combing his eyes urgently, and Mark realizes that he hasn't been as verbose and forthcoming about his feelings. Because of their intensity, he had assumed they would be apparent on his face with glasslike clarity, that he could leave the embarrassing confessions unspoken. But as Jaebum waits for his answer, looking like he's staring down a precipice, Mark fleetingly entertains the possibility that Jaebum might just find him as unreadable as he is to Mark.  
  
Quickly, he puts Jaebum out of his suspense. "Me too," is all he can force out shyly. The two meagre words are a starkly lacking attempt to describe the enormity of what Jaebum makes him feel, but they are literally all Mark can say before his throat closes up and refuses to make another peep. He wonders how the both of them will cope in future, sharing the same introvertedness and undemonstrative woodenness, mulishly stubborn. Will they be able to get past this incompatibility?  
  
Jaebum looks like having this conversation feels like swallowing glass for him too, but he demonstrates a greater willpower than Mark as he forces himself to continue, "You'd be willing to... make that sacrifice... for me?"  
  
When Mark nods slightly, the way Jaebum's face lights up robs him of breath for a moment. He's never seen Jaebum's face soften in pure childish delight like this before and it throws Mark in a way that Jaebum's maturity and overbearing authority have failed to do before from the start. It makes his heart tremble and Mark immediately wishes Jaebum wouldn't show his adorably boyish side because Mark can just tell that that is going to be his greatest weakness and undoing.  
  
"I thought you weren't gay," he blurts haplessly, regretting the words the moment they are out as Jaebum's face falls.  
  
His lips are set in a terse line as he replies, "I'm not. But... there's no doubt that I'm attracted to you." His eyes blaze into Mark with a desire that makes Mark's face heats up and seems to set his entire body alight, even though Jaebum isn't even touching him. He shrinks away infinitesimally, shaken by the power of the sensation.  
  
"Are you?" Jaebum asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, a hint of pleading. Mark isn't sure whether he's asking if Mark is gay or attracted to him, but either way it doesn't matter because the answer is an irrevocable yes, judging from the way his body is responding right now. Mark can confidently say that he has never felt such a primal and animal attraction to any human being, male or female, as he feels towards Im Jaebum. He doesn't want to think about the implications of this fact.  
  
So instead, he just nods again with the same paralyzing and pathetic inability to speak. But the relief that washes over Jaebum's face, restoring its colour makes Mark feel impossibly like he's just written an entire love letter to Jaebum, bared his heart and soul in an impassioned and heartfelt confession. He feels inexpressibly grateful to Jaebum for instinctively understanding Mark's difficulty with speech, with expressing his emotions verbally. He has far more sensitivity than Mark had given him credit for.  
  
Finally, relievingly, Jaebum breaks their gaze, and Mark sags and heaves a muted sigh of relief. His body is damp with cold sweat, clothes sticking to his back and he feels short of breath like he's just run a marathon or had a full-body workout. It's been the most nerve-wracking confrontation of his life, and that's saying a lot because Mark hates confrontations.  
  
He realizes that Jaebum is fishing his phone out of his pants pocket and stares, puzzled. Maybe he's calling a cab to go home.  
  
"Are you... leaving?" Mark says timidly, and Jaebum looks up, eyes darkening with amusement for some reason. "Hell no," he says emphatically, then looks embarrassed. "I mean..." he amends shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Unless you want me to."  
  
"No!" This time, Mark is the one who blurts it out vehemently, and he blushes violently as Jaebum's eyes widen, then glitter in comprehension. "I mean, y-you can stay as long as you want," Mark stammers, unable to meet his warm burning gaze.  
  
He hears Jaebum's breathless laugh. "I'm texting Bambam to leave and take the other two lightbulbs with him," Jaebum says, voice soft and deep, and Mark inhales sharply as he looks up to see Jaebum's face now transformed by a full-blown smirk as he finishes typing and tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied look.  
  
Mark's heart skips a beat. He had known -- he had just known Jaebum had a wicked sense of humour hidden behind that stern adult front. It was something about the way he caught himself before he smiled with his teeth, the way his eyes couldn't help dancing with mirth even so.  
  
Sure enough, within less than a minute, Mark hears three pairs of retreating footsteps and the latch of his front door sliding closed with a crisp click. The house plunges into a thick, opaque silence in which Mark can hear his pulse roaring in his ears again. The air between them is crackling with a tension that is almost electric.  
  
"How... how did you get them to leave so fast?" Mark sounds breathless, voice rubbed raw.  
  
Jaebum's eyes smoulder like it's an aphrodisiac to him. He clears his throat and replies, voice sounding as tight, "I bribed him with a payrise."  
  
Mark laughs, and in vast contrast all traces of laughter fade from Jaebum's eyes. He takes a step towards Mark, and suddenly Mark finds himself staring up into Jaebum's noir orbs and dilated, unfocused pupils.  
  
"Mark," Jaebum breathes, and it sounds like a plea, a prayer, an agonized gulp of air Jaebum has been drowning and dying to take.  
  
"Jaebum," Mark replies instinctively, and he inhales audibly, stopping cold in his tracks as he looks down at Mark in disbelief. "It's..." his voice is husky in a way that sends a ripple down Mark's spine. "It's the first time you've said my name."  
  
Mark is shocked to see that Jaebum's eyes are glistening with unshed tears.  
  
"Please," he begs, desperation and need colouring his voice. "Say it again?"  
  
Jaebum closes his eyes, waiting, and Mark chokes the word out over the lump suddenly blocking his throat. "Jaebum-ah."  
  
Jaebum's eyes fly open, filled with wonder and emotion, and his fingers don't tremble this time as he takes Mark's chin with disconcerting gentleness and tilts his face up, leaning down to claim his lips. Jaebum tastes like chain-smoked cigarettes and too many bottles of wine, like missing and unendurable longing.  
  
And Mark feels nothing like what he had felt when he almost kissed Jinyoung. There is nothing comfortable or secure about kissing Jaebum. It feels risky and dangerous and lethal, hot and wet and filthy and perverse. Jaebum kisses Mark in a way he has never been kissed before, that makes him feel utterly debauched and desecrated, gasping for breath when Jaebum pulls away, teeth catching Mark's tongue and lower lip with a lingering nip as they break apart to drag much-needed air into their lungs.  
  
Mark gapes up at Jaebum, eyes shocked and round as Jaebum runs a hand through his hair, panting, then abruptly crushes Mark to his chest. Mark can actually feel and hear Jaebum's heartbeat, hammering against his own chest like a tattoo that makes him suddenly painfully aware of Jaebum's feverish, muscled body pressed against the length of his and the hardness of his groin digging into Mark's thigh.  
  
Jaebum lets out a low, uncontrolled groan at the contact, grinding his crotch against Mark's roughly, and Mark feels a cold fear ripple down his spine. He's not ready. For whatever Jaebum wants to do. Whatever two men do... together.  
  
Mark struggles weakly in the cage of Jaebum's arms, partly because of this and partly because he doesn't want Jaebum to sense his own arousal, his cock stirring in his pants with a hunger that is alien and foreign and terrifyingly unfamiliar to Mark. The truth is that, with any of the girls he's ever slept with, he's never felt so turned on before.  
  
Jaebum growls low in his throat at Mark's rebuff, sounding frustrated and wounded. Mark recalls what he had said the day he came to pick Bambam up -- what he thought about Mark and Yugyeom's relationship, and feels slightly less confused about why Jaebum is pushing him so urgently. He must think that this isn't Mark's first time.  
  
When Mark places his hands on Jaebum's chest and pushes him away gently, the betrayal in Jaebum's flashing eyes confirms this, but he doesn't say anything or make any accusations and Mark doesn't have a chance to clarify the misunderstanding. He's way too spineless to bring it up himself.  
  
Jaebum is glaring at him with spurned desire in his eyes, looking as confused and messed up as Mark feels, but his hands fall from Mark's body back to his sides when Mark says quietly, shakily, "I'm not ready."  
  
Mark can see the struggle in Jaebum's eyes, the impulse to throw out vicious and cutting words, but with an effort Jaebum regains control of his emotions. "It's okay," he says, voice low and gravelly, addressing Mark's dick directly. "We'll take it slowly," Jaebum says comfortingly, caressingly. There is none of the impatience in his eyes in the honeyed velvet of his words.  
  
Jaebum touches his lips, skimming his fingertip over them, eyes dreamy and nostalgic like he's already reliving their kiss five minutes ago. Mark doesn't know why he looks so faraway when Mark is right in front of him, but then Jaebum takes his thumb off his lips and brings it without warning to Mark's, tracing Mark's swollen, moist and sensitized lips with utmost gentleness. A smile enters his eyes, as soft as the caress of a summer breeze.  
  
"I'd... better go," Jaebum says, dropping his finger from Mark's mouth and tearing his gaze away with difficulty. "I don't want to force you into doing anything you feel uncomfortable with."  
  
"Stay," Mark blurts out, driven by the startling stab of loneliness that pierces him at the thought of Jaebum leaving. "I mean --" he quickly stammers out damage control, "It's late, too dark to drive. You can stay the night."  
  
Jaebum looks tempted for a moment, but shakes his head regretfully with a small smile. "I don't think I can control myself if I do."  
  
Mark's eyes involuntarily flicker down to the crotch of Jaebum's sweatpants. Because of the colour and material, Jaebum's unabating erection is doubly obvious and Mark snaps his eyes away from the blatant evidence of Jaebum's desire for him, embarrassed. He's not used to his partner's physical want for him being so obvious and visible. He's used to the soft bodies of girls and their shy blushes and muffled whimpers underneath him. He's not accustomed to his partner taking the lead.  
  
Jaebum catches the direction of his glance and colours too, but he looks less ashamed than defiant about his twisted need for Mark as his eyes seek Mark's challengingly. For someone heterosexual up till a few weeks ago, Jaebum seems to be embracing his homoerotic tendencies much more calmly than Mark.  
  
When Mark doesn't say anything, Jaebum doesn't make any move towards him either, respecting his unconsent. Instead, his fingers stroke Mark's hair and graze the nape of his neck lightly as he bends to press a brief but searing kiss to Mark's forehead, too transient for Mark to savour it.  
  
Then he is gone, his footsteps light as a cat's as he opens the bedroom door and steps into the puddle of light that momentarily falls into Mark's room. "Get some sleep," Jaebum throws over his shoulder quietly, his voice mildly apologetic in a way that makes Mark sense he feels sorry for how roughly he had handled Mark. "I'll call you tomorrow."  
  
Then the door creaks closed and he doesn't hear Jaebum's footsteps but only his front door latching shut again a few minutes later. Mark presses a hand to his racing heart as his knees finally give out as they have threatened to all night and he sinks down weakly onto the edge of his bed.

 

He is woken up by the buzzing of a new text the next morning. Mark blinks awake groggily, thinking it's another day like all the others, before he remembers the events of the previous night and it hits him that today is entirely different. Today, he's in love with Jaebum -- at least it's the first day he can admit it, and this simple fact changes everything.  
  
It's like he's put on one of those 3D glasses you wear in a simulator -- everything seems to sparkle with a new dimension and definition, a fresh vividness with a clarity so sharp it almost hurts to look. Mark wants to shout it from the rooftops, to let the whole world know -- Jaebum is now his boyfriend. The word sounds so wrong, taboo when he tentatively whispers it, looking around furtively and feeling immediately guilty, for obvious reasons, but Mark doesn't know why it makes him smile so giddily his face doesn't stop aching all day. He feels like a ditzy schoolgirl with her first crush and Jaebum is the most popular and good-looking jock on campus who has finally noticed him after a lifetime.  
  
His own transformation is frightening to Mark because Mark has never been the hearts and flowers type. It's Jinyoung who is the romanticist between the two of them, an incurable romantic who cries over Romeo and Juliet and Wuthering Heights, whose favourite movie genre is secretly sappy chick flicks and romantic comedies. Even with his ex-girlfriends, Mark had seldom been the one to take the initiative, always coasting by on his good looks and superior genetics. The girls didn't seem to mind his passivity and Mark had never felt the urge to be proactive, never felt the desire to fight for anything or anyone. Until now.  
  
Mark has always been confident in relationships, if less so in social interaction. So far, no one who had caught his eye had ever rejected his pursuit. Things and people he wanted had mostly fallen into his lap easily, without too much effort or angst. So these feelings of uncertainty and inferiority, the gnawing feeling that Jaebum is out of his league is new to him. Mark doesn't like feeling this way, like he doesn't deserve Jaebum, like he needs Jaebum more than Jaebum needs him.  
  
His phone vibrates again in his slack hand and he realizes he has been staring at Jaebum's message for nearly an hour, lost in thought and rumination. It's ridiculous and embarrassing because Jaebum's message is just two words: "Good morning." He probably hadn't even spent a hundredth of the time Mark had spent obsessing over it giving it a second thought, probably just idly sent it out of boredom on his way to work, already forgetting it by the next minute. Mark feels like a lovesick fool.  
  
He resolutely closes Jaebum's message and forces it out of his mind, opening the new one. It's from Yugyeom. He says, "Bambam's house is much nicer and neater and bigger than yours, hyung! He said I can crash here from now on. I'll be by to take my stuff in the afternoon, kay. Later!"  
  
Mark chortles at the series of emoticons at the end, which soften the tone of Yugyeom's words. He knows that Yugyeom is more considerate and sensitive than he pretends to be, and that he probably took the hint that Jaebum wouldn't like him staying at Mark's and decided not to put Mark in a difficult position. Even if he had been too dense to notice, Jinyoung would've sorted that out pronto.  
  
That, or maybe he's just smitten with Bambam at first sight.  
  
  
  
He drops off Yugyeom's backpack on his way downtown to buy art supplies. Bambam is at work but Yugyeom is lounging on the couch, looking right at home already. His ability to adapt to living anywhere is really amazing. Yugyeom thanks him cutely, popping his bubble gum and waving a hand generously as he tells Mark to make himself at home, almost as if he's the host and not a guest too.  
  
Mark has never been to Bambam's house and is impressed to see that it's indeed bigger than his own as Yugyeom had claimed. He realizes that Bambam probably earns more and has a more stable salary than him, even though he's only a rookie advertising trainee working up the ranks. At least he has a much more official-sounding job than Mark.  
  
This train of thought depresses Mark vaguely, so he stops wandering around Bambam's house and tells Yugyeom he still has to make a stop at the art supplies shop before it closes. Yugyeom waves goodbye breezily as he leaves, calling, "Visit me again when you're free, hyung!" He seems to be making a much longer stopover this time than he does normally. Maybe, just maybe, Mark thinks with surprise, even flighty Yugyeom is finally settling down a little, setting down roots and finding a place he can call home.  
  
Mark is on the subway back in the late afternoon, arms laden with paper bags filled with pots of bright paints with that fresh turpentine smell that he inhales deeply with anticipation; a few of his usual cheap brushes with stiff strawlike bristles and one with the softest hair that feels like the fur of a fluffy cat slinking past when he strokes it across his skin. He had been unable to resist splurging on it when he saw it, even though he knew it was a designer brand he couldn't afford and would cost him a week of his food allowance. He also stocked up on a pile of sketchbooks and drawing pads, the rich and creamy paper just thick enough to make that satisfying rustling sound when he flipped a page.  
  
The thought suddenly occurs to him, popping into his mind out of nowhere that he hadn't replied Jaebum's message this morning. He had zoned out staring at it and trying to think of what to say until Yugyeom's arrived and he hastily closed it, then left the house, in the end slipping his mind. Mark bites his lip, hoping that Jaebum hadn't noticed or better yet, hadn't been expecting a reply. He would type one out now, but his arms are too full and overloaded to reach his phone.  
  
Mark's thoughts are still on Jaebum, the surprising softness of his chapped lips the previous night as he trudges home, arms aching and looking forward to setting his load down and resting. And when he looks up, a few paces away from his apartment, to see Jaebum standing outside, ringing the doorbell, eyes solemn, Mark thinks for a moment that it's a hallucination.  
  
"Jaebum?" he calls uncertainly, shuffling closer, and Jaebum turns in his direction, startled. He looks from the door to Mark, confused, as if expecting Mark to emerge from inside the house. His mouth hangs open for a moment, dazed, before he snaps into action, hurrying to relieve Mark of one of his overflowing bags. He hoists it easily into the crook of his arm, biceps rippling beneath the linen of his work shirt and Mark blushes, looking away quickly. He isn't wearing a suit jacket today and looks casual and handsome, a sleek ebony briefcase dangling from his other hand.  
  
"Where did you go?" Jaebum frowns, as Mark fumbles for his key and opens the door.  
  
Mark lets himself in and heaves the bags onto the coffee table, gesturing to Jaebum to just drop the one he's carrying anywhere on the couch.  
  
"I had to buy some stuff in town," he replies casually, leaning awkwardly against the wall. "Why?"  
  
Jaebum presses his lips together. "I... I was worried. You didn't reply my text this morning." His voice is soft, hesitant.  
  
Mark feels a pang of guilt that Jaebum had evidently been waiting for his reply. "S-sorry," he stammers. "I forgot."  
  
Jaebum looks slightly hurt and Mark's guilt deepens. "I read it, though!" he quickly adds. "It made me... really happy."  
  
Jaebum's eyes widen, flickering up to his, and Mark cringes in embarrassment. What had possessed him to say something so cheesy and gross? It was just... the look in Jaebum's eyes at that moment, his face falling like a little boy's. It had gone straight to Mark's heart.  
  
Jaebum clears his throat, and Mark realizes that the tips of his ears are blushing. Is this... how Jaebum looks when he's pleased? Mark sees Jaebum looking up at him bashfully through his eyelashes, and feels a surge of laughter bubbling in his throat. Jaebum really is too adorable for his own good.  
  
"I didn't mean to make you worry," Mark says softly, moving towards Jaebum on impulse. Jaebum doesn't back away or approach, just watching Mark with hopeful speculation as Mark closes the distance between them.  
  
"It's alright," Jaebum says quietly when Mark is standing before him, rewarding Mark with a rare smile. "I was just... insecure... wondering if you had changed your mind." He shifts his weight nervously to the other foot, studying the ground.  
  
"Changed my mind?" Mark echoes, startled. It's so inconceivable that Jaebum could even entertain that notion. Did he have any idea how lucky Mark felt to have the chance to be with Jaebum? "Never," he blurts out vehemently, making Jaebum look up again with that stricken expression, as if Mark has taken his breath away.  
  
"Did you come here because of that?" Mark whispers, suddenly breathless too. Jaebum's hair is falling out of his slicked-back do again, into his eyes and Mark wants to push it back with an intimate gesture but doesn't dare to. "You could've just called me."  
  
Jaebum looks embarrassed. "Yeah," he mutters. "And I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to have dinner."  
  
Mark feels a stupidly huge grin splitting his face. "Dinner? Where?"  
  
"I don't know," Jaebum looks up at him, a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips. A familiar glimmer of mischief enters his eye. "Are you in the mood for McDonald's or French cuisine?"  
  
  
  
In the end, they decide to cook a simple meal at home, since Mark has already bought the ingredients for dinner at the supermarket. He unloads groceries and stows cartons of milk into his mini refrigerator as he watches Jaebum cracking eggs into the bowl of samgyetang he is brewing on the stove. Jaebum's forehead is creased in concentration, his eyes adorably serious as he carefully stirs the broth.  
  
Mark closes the fridge and slouches against it, continuing to watch Jaebum adding spices and condiments as the soup bubbles to completion. He ladles out a spoonful and tentatively tastes it, looking thoughtful, then satisfied.  
  
Jaebum notices Mark's gaze and looks up, his smile beckoning. "Want a taste?" he offers, and Mark feels his feet leading him towards Jaebum without thinking, pulled in by that familiar gravitational force. Jaebum looks pleased by Mark's increasing proximity, and scoops up another spoonful of the fragrant soup. He blows on it this time, like he's worried Mark will burn his tongue, and delivers it carefully into Mark's open mouth. Mark tries not to blush at the startling intimacy of Jaebum feeding him, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.  
  
The soup warms his mouth and slides down his dry throat, into his stomach which he has just realized is ravenous. "It's really good!" he gasps, unable to hide his impressed awe, and Jaebum can't contain his beaming grin of pride.  
  
"I had no idea you were such a good cook," Mark mutters as he slurps down his second bowl of Jaebum's soup later. Jaebum's culinary skills could seriously rival a housewife.  
  
Jaebum arches an amused eyebrow at him. "I have many hidden talents," he quips, not knowing how true it is, and how marvelous Mark finds the way Jaebum constantly surprises him.  
  
  
  
When they are washing the dishes together, Jaebum rinsing and Mark drying, their fingertips brush as Jaebum hands Mark a plate absently. Both of them immediately pull away as though burnt, and Mark sees his wariness and consternation reflected in Jaebum's anxious eyes. They have been careful not to touch each other all night, all too aware of the awkward tension crackling in the air between them, charged and electrifying. Now, Jaebum shifts, setting a distance between them, his eyes cautious and guarded.  
  
"It's late," he says quietly, setting down the last clean plate in the rack. "I should go."  
  
As with the previous night, Mark doesn't say anything, struck dumb. He clutches Jaebum's shoulders as Jaebum kisses him chastely goodnight at the door, lips cool as they brush Mark's briefly. Mark's fingers tighten, grabbing a fistful of Jaebum's shirt for one heartstopping second, before he reluctantly lets go. Jaebum is looking intently at him, breathing seeming a little quicker than usual. But his manners remain faultlessly gentlemanly as he wishes Mark good night and steps out the front door, leaving Mark feeling unfulfilled and left hanging as he stares morosely at the back of the closed door.  
  
He feels slightly anticlimactic as he recalls fondly Jaebum's breathtaking passion the night before, his demanding lips on Mark, urgent and bruising, possessing. If he didn't know that Jaebum was capable of such fierce intensity, of losing control like that, Mark wouldn't have believed it. Jaebum could've fooled him with his bland, nice-guy exterior.  
  
  
  
Days become weeks, and weeks cumulate into a fortnight, then almost a month, but the feeling of surreality never completely fades. It never stops feeling like a fairytale or a dream in that first moment every morning when Mark wakes up and his breath catches as he remembers that he's dating someone now. He's dating _Jaebum_.  
  
He's starting to suspect he'll never tire of this novelty, never be able to contain the shit-eating grin on his face when he daydreams foolishly of Jaebum, sends him playful texts with emoticons that Jaebum never uses in return, which makes Mark have even more fun spamming him with stickers and smileys, enjoying teasing Jaebum and trying to ruffle his poker face.  
  
On Mark's thirtieth birthday in Korean age, he spends the evening putting the finishing touches on his almost completed sketch. He has invested months of effort into it and it's more personal than any project he has ever worked on. He had never dared to hope that this assignment would be this successful, that he would manage to overcome his loss of inspiration and produce such an outstanding work of art. But his wildest dreams had come true, and Mark hardly dares to believe his luck, the unreal fact that he now possesses both career and love. His happiness has skyrocketed compared to his dull and monotonous existence a few months ago, and it was all thanks to Jaebum walking into his life like a fairytale prince and banishing the darkness in it, supporting him, inspiring him indescribably. Mark knows that he owes Jaebum more than he can say for altering his life so positively.  
  
He wonders how he could possibly express his innermost thoughts and feelings to Jaebum, convey his gratitude and the extent and depth of his love in another form besides language. Mark has already acknowledged that he is hopeless at weaving pretty words and sweet nothings, and the only way he has ever been able to come close to expressing himself is through art. And when Mark realizes this, it dawns on him that he has found the perfect birthday present for Jaebum. He had been racking his brains over what to get Jaebum on his birthday, which is a few months after Mark, and when the idea strikes Mark, he's so excited that he abandons his nearly-finished work and immediately starts on the portrait of Jaebum.  
  
Before Mark puts the tip of his pencil to paper, he closes his eyes and visualizes Jaebum in his mind's eye -- Jaebum on his doorstep every night, eyes longing and reserved at the same time, brooding and pensive as he sweetly kisses Mark goodbye; the way sometimes when he's tired his eyes flutter closed as if indulging in the brief moment and his lips linger on Mark's, a degree warmer than usual. Jaebum had been as good as his word, never making any further advances towards Mark or trying to get fresh with him after that day, almost stubbornly restrained. Sometimes Mark wonders if he's doing it on purpose, to get back at Mark for pushing him away, but then he feels bad for thinking so negatively of Jaebum who has given him nothing but utmost respect and space.  
  
Gradually, Jaebum's passivity combined with Mark's characteristic reserve had led them to arrive at an impasse, unable to progress forward in terms of intimacy and starting to fall into the comfort, the predictability of the same habits every day. Sometimes the gestures varied -- occasionally Jaebum gave him a forehead kiss or a backhug instead, but they were always still safe and sedate, more friendly than loverlike.  
  
And maybe this languid pace isn't so bad either, Mark comforts himself thinking. There's no stress and less tension even though Jaebum's touch still sets his skin alight every time they accidentally graze each other's bodies. The fire that consumes Mark on those occasions makes him relieved and even more convinced that they shouldn't explore unchartered territory, for fear of being burnt and badly scalded.  
  
Occasionally, he wonders if Jaebum is waiting for him to make the first move, since Mark had been the one who had set the boundaries initially, drawn the lines. But Mark dismisses the thought quickly. Jaebum should know that Mark doesn't have the courage to. He should know better than to expect Mark to do something so reckless, something so stupidly brave. Mark has always been content to let Jaebum take the navigation of their relationship, satisfied to follow Jaebum as he guided.  
  
After he does the rough preliminary sketch with blunt, careless lines in faint pencil, Mark digs into his supplies for a piece of charcoal, just the right size to fit into the palm of his hand. It powders his fingertips with coal dust as he uses the sharp end to describe a row of curved lines, capturing the exact curl of Jaebum's long eyelashes casting shadows over his high cheekbones as he presses his lips to Mark's forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, square on the lips. Mark shades and smudges diligently, applying pressure to evoke shadow in darker areas and lightening his touch to a feather's weight as he captures light. He loses himself in swift charcoal strokes across canvas and when the brassy ringing of the doorbell jolts him back to reality the portrait is half-done and twilight has fallen.  
  
Mark blinks, quickly fumbling for a cloth and throwing it over the easel clumsily. He looks at the clock, breaking into a smile. Jaebum is early. He must've specially arrived earlier to take Mark out for a birthday dinner.  
  
Mark hurriedly undoes his paint-spattered apron, bustling eagerly to the door, briefly considering throwing himself daringly into Jaebum's arms. Would that make him laugh in that way that echoed in Mark's bones? Would he pick Mark up, lifting him effortlessly off his feet and swing him around in a joyful circle, no longer waiting for each other to initiate skinship first?  
  
But when Mark flings open the door, his grin slips to see not Jaebum but Jinyoung, Yugyeom and Bambam standing outside with megawatt smiles, balloons, gaudily-wrapped presents and a bakery cake in a box. "SURPRISE!"  
  
Mark recovers quickly, pasting his elated smile back on. It's not difficult because he is genuinely delighted and immensely moved by his friends' impromptu party for him. It's just that he had been expecting to spend a solitary romantic night with Jaebum.  
  
But looking at their guileless, loving smiles, Mark can't bring himself to tell his hapless, well-meaning friends to leave. Besides, Jaebum isn't due back for another hour. Maybe the party will be finished by then. So he opens his door widely and graciously invites them in, and the three of them pile into his apartment in a bundle of cheer and excitement. Mark is soon buoyed by their wave of upbeat celebration too, really starting to enjoy his birthday.  
  
Bambam has bought these ridiculous party hats and headwear from the party supplies store, but Mark refuses to wear the clownlike conical hats. They let him choose since he's the birthday boy and he reluctantly picks the least embarrassing one, a headband with furry black cat ears. Jinyoung puts it on for him. "Hyung, you look so cute!" he fanboys, flailing his hands as he snaps a selca for commemoration. Bambam has next dibs since he bought the accessories and picks a pair of fluffy white bunny ears, and Jinyoung chooses a bulky baby pink peach head which is cute but looks heavy and stuffy inside. Yugyeom is left with the ridiculous party hat and he pouts, whining grumpily as Jinyoung snaps pictures, uploading them onto his Instagram while laughing his ass off.  
  
Once they are suitably attired, the three of them go to the kitchen and huddle over the birthday cake, bickering over how many candles to stick in. Mark laughs as their muffled but furious argument drifts out and finally the lights flicker off and they carry the enormous cake into the living room, their faces looking so beautiful and precious illuminated in the orange glow of the candles that Mark feels a prickle at the backs of his eyes. He blinks away the tears rapidly, thankful for the darkness as they walk slowly closer, singing the birthday song off-tune, in Korean, then English, then a butchered Chinese version which makes Mark howl until his stomach hurts.  
  
At least he can claim the tears oozing from his eyes are from laughing too hard as Mark takes a deep breath and blows out the candles, making three wishes. _I wish Jinyoung, Yugyeom and Bambam will always be happy. I wish for more inspiration in my art this year. I wish that on my thirty-first birthday, Jaebum and I will still be together_.  
  
Mark opens his eyes to the other three's rousing cheers. They pop open cans of beer to go with the cake, which is chocolate fudge with _Happy birthday Mark-hyung_ written on it in pink icing. Yugyeom proudly informs Mark that it was his contribution.  
  
"What about yours?" Mark turns expectantly to Jinyoung, who points to the bunch of more than ten colourful balloons which has floated up to the ceiling and is now hovering in a corner of the room like an awkward visitor. "What am I going to do with that?" Mark shakes his head, laughing, and Jinyoung shrugs, licking cream off his fingers. "We can set them free later. It's pretty when they go up in the sky."  
  
"I can paint that!" Mark exclaims, and they all agree excitedly that it's a good idea.  
  
Mark is already imagining the contrast of pastel balloons silhouetted against the night sky, their tails like the vapour trails of shooting stars arcing across the dark in a beautiful trajectory of light. They finish up their slices of cake, chattering casually and have seconds. The cake is so big that there's still half left over after they can't eat a bite more. Jinyoung packs it up and stuffs the box into Mark's fridge. "You can serve it to other guests," he mumbles cryptically, and Mark senses that he's talking about Jaebum but doesn't want to say his name outright. It's just like Jinyoung to remember all his friends, even those who aren't around.  
  
Next, they whip out the lavishly-wrapped presents Mark had caught a glimpse of when they arrived, all of them pestering him to open theirs first. Mark laughs, unable to resist all their aegyos, and decides in the end to pull one end of all three ribbons simultaneously. He's thrilled and not surprised to find out Yugyeom has given him drawing supplies, and of the best quality too. It must've cost him a small fortune, but he just laughs dismissively and winks, "Only the best for my Mark-hyung," when Mark berates him for splurging.  
  
Bambam has given him an eclectic selection of the latest album releases, both Western and Korean pop which he reassured Mark he had gotten almost free-of-charge since their advertising company got lots of samples. "These are really cool, thanks," Mark gushes, eyes starry as he sifts through the albums, touched that Bambam had noticed his passion for music only secondary to art.  
  
Jinyoung has gotten him the full saga of Fifty Shades of Grey. "Oh my god," Mark groans, blushing and exasperated at the same time. "I'm not really into reading, especially erotica, Jinyoung-ah."  
  
"Trust me, you'll like them," Jinyoung leers greasily, and Mark rolls his eyes. At least it's in English and not the Korean translation which Mark's hangul is still not fluent enough to read.  
  
They are gathering the gift wrappers and clearing the used plates up when the doorbell rings again. Mark looks up, stricken and ecstatic at the same time. He had been having so much fun that he forgot Jaebum was due back soon. Jinyoung leaps to his feet, bounding towards the door before Mark has a chance to get up. "It's okay, I'll get it!" he beams at Mark helpfully.  
  
When Mark has straggled to his feet and stumbled after Jinyoung, skidding to a breathless halt behind him, he is just in time to see the way Jaebum's face crumples when he sees Jinyoung in Mark's doorway, his smile faltering as he takes in the cat ears on Mark's head. The bouquet of red roses in his hand drops to his side, and his other hand tightens over the handle of the cake box he's holding, knuckles pale as he slides it behind his back.  
  
Mark abruptly realizes how this looks, since Jaebum can't see Yugyeom and Bambam and has no idea they're in the house too. He probably thinks Mark is celebrating alone with Jinyoung. But before Mark can open his mouth to explain, Jaebum has pivoted on his heel and is marching towards the elevator, jabbing the button and getting in stormily.  
  
"What's his deal?" Jinyoung turns to him, lifting an eyebrow, obviously finding Jaebum's reaction bizarre. Mark sighs in distress and doesn't bother to explain to Jinyoung how he had never cleared up the existing misunderstanding Jaebum had developed over that text message a few months ago Jinyoung had sent about kissing Mark. Jaebum had never asked and Mark hadn't known how to broach the subject, instead choosing to avoid the issue.  
  
Mark gives Jinyoung a hasty pat on the shoulder, promising to clarify the situation later, and asks Jinyoung if he would mind terribly if Mark left first.  
  
"Hyung," Jinyoung sighs, giving him a one-armed hug. "It's your birthday, remember? You can do anything you like. Go crazy!" he urges, nudging Mark. "But don't do anything I wouldn't do," he jokes as Mark shoots him a grateful smile, tears off the ears and pulls on his shoes haphazardly, breaking into a run after Jaebum.  
  
"Thanks, Jinyoung-ah," Mark types out a quick text to him in the downward hurtling lift. "I'll make your birthday unforgettable too." Jinyoung's birthday is coming up and Mark vows that he will plan for Jinyoung as amazing a surprise as his three friends have given him today.  
  
  
  
Mark feels himself sagging palpably in relief when he spies Jaebum's car still in the garage of the apartment building. He wanders out of the lobby, wondering where Jaebum would head at this time of the night. He can't have gone far on foot and besides, he would never make Mark search for him on his birthday. Mark is confident of that. He just wanted to throw a small temper tantrum, to get Mark on his own. Jaebum could be petulant about hogging Mark's attention this way.  
  
Sure enough, Mark spots a familiar pair of shoulders in a pool of ochre light sitting at a solitary bench in the deserted park nearby, the cake box and bouquet of flowers on either side of him. From the rear, Jaebum's shoulders look broad but fragile, and Mark feels a pang of tenderness for him as he walks slowly up behind Jaebum and leans down to drape his arms around his shoulders.  
  
Jaebum jumps a little, startled, relaxing when he senses it's Mark but his body still remaining stiff, unwilling to admit his soft-heartedness. Mark knows better than to be intimidated, nuzzling into his neck at the spot he's found out Jaebum is most sensitive until Jaebum turns his head, capturing Mark's lips with his own and Mark's chin with his fingers.  
  
The kiss is chaste, soft, gentle and sweet as usual. But today Jaebum's mouth feels feverishly warm against Mark's, unsatisfied, seeking for more. Mark's heart skips an erratic beat. However, Jaebum eventually pulls away with an effort, struggling to regain control of his breathing as he peers into Mark's eyes. "What was he doing there?" he demands unceremoniously, voice low.  
  
Mark hesitates. "Jinyoung came to give me a surprise party with --" But his words are cut off by Jaebum's lips on his again, now hot and savage as his tongue darts out to lick the seam of Mark's lips, coaxing them open and delving into Mark's unresisting warmth, finding Mark's tongue and tangling them together. Strong fingers close over the nape of Mark's neck and hold him immobile. Jaebum doesn't stop kissing Mark even when Mark starts gasping for breath, squirming away and trying to suck air in. He seems to wants to kiss Mark to the point of suffocation, biting the corner of Mark's lip deliberately until he draws blood. Jaebum seems to want to leave a visible mark on him today, one that will stake his claim and Mark wonders what had brought this sudden dominance on.  
  
"You're mine," Jaebum breathes fiercely, breaking away finally just when Mark thinks he is about to faint from lack of oxygen. Jaebum cradles his face in his hands, his eyes telling Mark that he is safe with him. "Do you understand?" his hands tighten over Mark's shoulders. "I'm never going to give you to anyone else."  
  
Mark can only nod dumbly, dragging huge gasps of air into his lungs, his heart still pumping overtime. Jaebum is breathing raggedly too, face flushed and pupils blown so wide his irises are almost entirely black. "Mark," Jaebum groans, sounding desperate and helpless and pleading, like he's deathly afraid of losing Mark. He detaches himself for a brief moment to stride around the bench towards Mark, wrenching him into his arms and engulfing him in his embrace, so tightly that Mark can't breathe. Jaebum's heart is slamming shallowly against his chest and his hot breath is jagged against Mark's neck, the ridge of his erection pressing against Mark's thigh.  
  
And for the first time, three months after they first met, Mark finally feels like he's ready. Ready for more than innocent kisses and teddy bear hugs. He wants this relationship to gain a sense of reality, an opacity that is currently lacking. A bond that can only be achieved through unrestrained intimacy. It's taken them so much time and patience to get here, but he's now fully prepared to move to the next step.  
  
"I'm yours," Mark murmurs into Jaebum's ear, feeling him tremble. He wraps his arms around Jaebum and squeezes just as tightly, wanting to give Jaebum physical reassurance, to allay his fears and put him at ease. "Don't worry."  
  
Jaebum pulls back to look into Mark's eyes, not looking convinced. "Prove it," he demands, eyes gleaming with challenge and unbearable hope.  
  
"Okay," Mark says simply, smiling at Jaebum and smoothing his hair back.  
  
"Okay?" Jaebum repeats, mouth falling open in shock. "Are you serious, Mark-yah?" his voice trembles. "You'll finally let me... touch you?"  
  
Mark lowers his eyes and nods shyly, feeling Jaebum's hands wander boldly and disbelievingly down to his hips to settle there, then cup his ass proprietarily. Jaebum pushes a knee between Mark's legs, crowding between them and grinding his crotch against Mark's roughly. Mark's head spins dizzily, sparks shooting up his groin as he grips Jaebum's shoulders and hangs on weakly.  
  
"Not here," he manages to choke out, before Jaebum devours him whole. "W-when we reach home."  
  
At his words, Jaebum stills as if by magic, letting Mark go obediently. Mark's heart contracts at the trust in Jaebum's eyes, the sheer happiness that shines from him because of Mark's promise.  
  
"You have no idea..." Jaebum breathes, caressing Mark's cheek with his knuckles. "How long I've been waiting. I was going crazy. I didn't think I'd be able to stand another day. Leaving you every night with a stupid kid's kiss, going home to jerk myself off to sleep, thinking of you... it was hell. You were driving me insane."  
  
Mark can't help the gasp that escapes his lips. Jaebum had always seemed so calm, so controlled and nonchalant and impassive. Mark had no clue that he was in such turmoil all the time. "I'm sorry," he mutters, remorseful. But Jaebum quickly hushes him. "It's not your fault. I was too anxious. I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"You won't," Mark promises seriously, looking up intently into his eyes. "I'm stronger than I look."  
  
A smile of unfettered delight breaks quietly over Jaebum's face. He takes Mark's hand in his, interlocking their fingers and picks up the cake and bouquet with the other. "Let's go home, then."  
  
Mark shakes his head, standing his ground and Jaebum looks confused, then panicked. "What's wrong?"  
  
Mark pouts. "You haven't given me my roses," he whines, and Jaebum laughs out loud in stunned relief.  
  
"For you," he says shyly, thrusting the bouquet at Mark. Mark takes it and inhales deeply, hiding his moronic grin behind the flowers. "Thank you."  
  
"Happy birthday," Jaebum says, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head.  
  
As they stroll back in the luminescent moonlight, hand in hand, Jaebum enquires, "What was that thing on your head you were wearing just now?"  
  
"... The cat ears?"  
  
"You're not allowed to look so cute in front of anybody except me again." Jaebum admonishes sternly. "Heard that?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Mark giggles with a mock salute, making Jaebum's face relax into an indulgent smile too. "Do you still have them?"  
  
"Yes, why?"  
  
Jaebum coughs. "Wear them again for me later. I didn't get a good look."  
  
When they get back to Mark's apartment, the house is sparkling clean, neater than it's been in a long time, and Jinyoung, Bambam and Yugyeom are gone without a trace.

 

On Jinyoung's birthday, Mark tells Jaebum about his plan to organize something special for Jinyoung, to make his day as memorable as he had made Mark's. After Mark had sorted out the misunderstanding about his relationship with Jinyoung and made it clear to Jaebum that they were strictly platonic friends, Jaebum's dislike and hostility towards Jinyoung had seemed to thankfully abate a little. After all, they had been acquaintances even before Mark had met Jaebum, and like everyone else in their field, Jaebum respects and admires Jinyoung's work ethic. Jinyoung is Mark's best friend and it means so much to Mark whether his boyfriend and best friend get along.  
  
As Yugyeom and Bambam have already planned a date by themselves that night, Mark attends the surprise party they throw at Jinyoung's house that morning. Jinyoung obviously knows about it beforehand, but is impressively convincing in his attempt to act surprised.  
  
Mark wants to take Jinyoung to a fancy restaurant, hipster bar or one of those avant garde cafes that Jinyoung likes. But since he's pretty clueless about the eateries in Seoul, he enlists Jaebum for help. Jaebum obligingly suggests a cozy upscale music bar with a live band that has a waiting list for reservations six months long, but he manages to get them a table because of some connections and pulled strings.  
  
Mark keeps Jinyoung in suspense, not telling him where they are heading until they arrive in Jaebum's SUV, and this time Jinyoung is genuinely intrigued.  
  
"Oh my god!" he shrieks when they pull up outside the bar. "How did you get a reservation here? I heard the waiting list is crazy!"  
  
Mark smiles, shooting a proud glance at Jaebum, who only presses his lips together in amusement.  
  
"This is the most awesome birthday ever," Jinyoung keeps repeating as they stroll into the bar and Jaebum gives the reservation under his name. His obvious and adorable excitement makes all the effort Mark has put into organizing this worth it.  
  
  
  
They place their orders with the waitress for appetizers and drinks. Jinyoung orders a mimosa, Mark a cranberry vodka and Jaebum vodka on the rocks. The bar is filled to full capacity, the ambient lighting giving the wall murals and graffitied tables a warm, inviting glow. After awhile, the low hum of conversation mutes politely to welcome the live band, which has taken its place on the makeshift stage at the front of the room.  
  
As the band segues into the opening chords of its first track, a slower-paced one to warm up the crowd first, Mark watches Jinyoung across the table anxiously. He knows that Jinyoung is a music lover and part-time expert and hopes that the grungy band will not disappoint him.  
  
Jinyoung faces the stage, eyes immersed as he sips his drink and listens appreciatively to the music. When his eyes flutter closed during a particularly emotional rock ballad, Mark feels a rush of truimph and knows that he has successfully made Jinyoung's night a good one. He beams gratefully at Jaebum, who squeezes his knee under the table looking equally pleased.  
  
Then unexpectedly, in the space between songs, the lead singer leans forward to speak into the mic, smiling warmly as he searches the crowd and his eyes pause at their table. "Today is the birthday of a very special person," he says in his soulful, dulcet voice. "Let's all wish Jinyoung-sshi a very happy birthday, okay?"  
  
He crinkles his eyes in his trademark eye smile, and the crowd goes crazy, clapping and cheering. Jinyoung has his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he blushes vigorously, looking both embarrassed and overjoyed. In answer to Jinyoung's incredulous look, Mark shrugs exaggeratedly, widening his eyes back to show that he knew nothing of this. Jaebum is toying with Mark's fingers on the table, looking smug.  
  
The band launches into an impromptu, bawdy and hilariously fun version of Happy Birthday, and Jinyoung looks close to tears. The night is turning out even more perfect than Mark had hoped for, and he's so thankful to Jaebum because if anyone deserves a flawless birthday, it's Jinyoung.  
  
After about an hour, the band finishes their set to uproarious applause and cries of "Encore!" The dyed, tattooed, black-clad and heavily-pierced members wave imperiously to their groupies as they descend the stage and the bar lapses into the relaxed chatter of private conversations once again. Jinyoung still looks pretty shell-shocked, like he can't quite believe what just happened.  
  
When they resume their conversation, Jinyoung leans towards Mark and hisses. "Did you see that mega gorgeous hottie up there? Holy crap."  
  
"The singer?" Mark is confused.  
  
"No, the bassist," Jinyoung says impatiently. "The one with blonde hair."  
  
"Ahh, him." Mark vaguely recalls him hanging in the background most of the time but coming forward to do a screechy solo during one of the upbeat tracks. "He's okay," he mumbles vaguely. "Cute, but he seemed like the cocky type, don't you think? And he didn't look very tall."  
  
Jaebum covers his mouth with a hand, but Mark can see from his eyes that he's smirking and almost immediately, intuits why. He marvels with wonder when he had become so attuned to what Jaebum's every expression meant, so in sync that they could pass a volume of conversation with one glance?  
  
Mark realizes with Jaebum's amusement that in a matter of a few months, checking out other guys appraisingly has become the norm for him. Mark groans. He dreads turning into the stereotypical gay man. But both him and Jaebum had slipped into this lifestyle surprisingly easily, with surprisingly little angst. Maybe it was because they were together as they undertook all their first times, innocent yet eager, fumbling yet sweet. Still, Mark doesn't think he could be gay for any guy other than Jaebum. It's a cheesy and cliche statement that sounds right out of the plot of a yaoi manga (which Jaebum had laughed off as unrealistic, but Mark had gotten strangely hooked to when they had bought it for fun to investigate sexual positions), but it's true. No matter how many other cute guys he has met since, Mark has only ever felt this intense attraction towards Jaebum. He has merely developed a clinical appreciation for good-looking guys, as with hot chicks that he gratuitously checks out when he bypasses them on the street.  
  
Now, Jinyoung bristles, his feathers seeming ruffled by Mark's lukewarm assesment. "Who cares whether he's short? Not everyone goes for tall guys, okay?" he huffs, shooting an obvious implying glance at Jaebum, who looks unperturbed by Jinyoung's dig. "Besides," Jinyoung lowers his voice playfully as he leers, "Did you get a load of that fantastic ass? Totally my type."  
  
Mark coughs, choking a little on his drink as he realizes Jinyoung is serious. "I didn't know you were gay?" he gasps shrilly.  
  
Jinyoung shrugs nonchalantly, as if unconcerned about questioning his sexuality. "I didn't know either until I saw him," he replies breezily.  
  
Jinyoung continues sneaking veiled peeks from beneath his eyelashes as they chow down on the rest of their dinner towards the table beside the stage where the band has been served food and drinks, on the house and are talking and joking in their own world. The bassist is perched on the table with his legs balanced on the chair, crossed coquettishly at the knees. His flaxen hair is matted to a dirty blonde, bangs pasted to his forehead with sweat as he flips them out of his eyes impatiently. This is the first time Mark has seen Jinyoung so obviously infatuated with anyone at first sight.  
  
After they have finished the meal and Jaebum has instructed the waitress in low tones to bring out the birthday cake, Mark slides his present across the table, a little peach-shaped paperweight that he had sculpted himself at the pottery farm and painted a peony pink. Jinyoung nearly screams in excitement when he unwraps it. "Omigod, this is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life! Thanks, Mark-hyung!" In his delight, Jinyoung carelessly leans across the table to give Mark a dry kiss on his cheek. Mark sees Jaebum's mouth go slack and his eyes narrow in annoyance, but he doesn't say anything to Mark's relief.  
  
To distract Jaebum, Mark quickly squeezes his thigh. "Where's your present?" he smiles expectantly. Mark isn't really sure if Jaebum has prepared a gift, although he hopes so, and is surprised when Jaebum cups a hand over his mouth and hollers in the direction of the band's table: "Youngjae-yah!"  
  
The singer's head snaps up from where he is huddled with his group members, wolfing down crab cakes, and a smile takes over his eyes and face as he bounds over eagerly. "Hyung! I was going to come over after I finished eating. Did you like the set?"  
  
His open, hopeful face shines with a flushed glow as Jaebum nods with pride, smiling. He claps Youngjae's back and looks back to Mark and Jinyoung. "This is Mark, my boyfriend, and his friend, Jinyoung."  
  
"Mark-hyung, Jinyoung-hyung!" Youngjae warmly greets, pumping their hands vigorously. "Happy birthday!" To his credit, he doesn't bat an eyelash at the word _boyfriend_ , but Mark imagines that Youngjae's smile seems to dim a couple of notches, with something like disappointment.  
  
"Thanks for the birthday song," Jinyoung blushes gratefully, and Youngjae shakes his head earnestly. "You're welcome! I hope you enjoyed it."  
  
"This is Youngjae..." Jaebum introduces proudly. "My cousin."  
  
At the word, Mark feels his body sag with relief. He had been worried Youngjae was a cute dongsaeng with a crush on Jaebum, a rival to Mark. Honestly, if he were, Mark had no confidence in winning.  
  
Jaebum leans in to whisper something in Youngjae's ear, and Youngjae listens carefully, a smile creeping onto his face as Mark and Jinyoung strain but fail to hear Jaebum's low murmur. Youngjae gives them another bright smile and turns to saunter back to the band's table. Mark is still wondering what Jaebum had told him when Youngjae is back again behind him, but this time bringing along the bassist.  
  
Jinyoung's fork drops as the blonde, muscular boy flips his hair again and peers out from beneath his choppy bangs at them, eyes honing in on Jinyoung. They are lively and devilish, filled with mischief. "Birthday boy?" he says conversationally, settling down unselfconsciouly onto an empty chair and leaning forward intently. "How old are you turning?"  
  
Mark gapes at him, expecting Jinyoung to instantly take offense at such a blunt question, blushing, but can't believe his ears to hear Jinyoung say meekly, "Twenty-nine."  
  
"Oh, really?" The bassist raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "Me too," he confides, leaning forward, and Jinyoung actually giggles breathlessly.  
  
Youngjae takes the chance of the lull in the conversation to pull up a chair and lean forward too, making the introductions. "This is Jackson-hyung. He's Chinese."  
  
Mark's interest is piqued at that, staring unabashedly at Jackson. He hadn't expected to meet a fellow Chinese here, which he seldom did in Seoul.  
  
"Do you speak it?" he blurts out in Mandarin unconsciously. Jackson looks up at him, eyes lighting up with excitement too as he realizes that Mark is a fellow countryman.  
  
"Mandarin?" Jackson replies in smooth Chinese. "Yes."  
  
Jinyoung looks a little bereft at the loss of Jackson's attention, a little disgruntled. Mark hurriedly tries to steer Jackson's attention back to him but he seems to have aroused Jackson's curiosity, and he continues peppering Mark with rapidfire questions about his hometown and length of his stay in Korea.  
  
Then Mark hears a screech of chair legs against the floor beside him, and turns in confusion to see Jaebum standing up with a clatter, unsmiling.  
  
He grabs Mark's arm brusquely. "Let's go to the restroom."  
  
Mark blinks up at him, finding Jaebum's sudden clinginess a little odd. But he obediently gets to his feet too, making Jackson's outpouring of questions finally halt reluctantly and Jaebum tugs him bodily away from the table. Youngjae gets up, huffing after them. "Wait for me, Jaebum-hyung!"  
  
Jaebum laughs and takes his other hand, dragging both of them in the direction of the bathroom. Near his bandmates' table, Youngjae bails on them, making a beeline for the food. Jaebum doesn't stop his strident pace as they continue approaching the toilets.  
  
The male restroom is empty and Jaebum tugs Mark unceremoniously into a cubicle, backing Mark against the door. Mark's back hits it with a thud, panting a little with exertion from the pace at which Jaebum had hurried here. He stares with dazed eyes up at Jaebum, confused. He's not so thick as to not understand that Jaebum wanted to leave Jinyoung and Jackson alone, but why do they have to be cramped in one cubicle when there is plenty of space in the toilet? Besides, Jaebum had said he need to use it and Mark moves to leave the cubicle and give Jaebum privacy.  
  
But the moment his hand falls on the doorknob, Jaebum's hand descends on it, light but firm. "Stay," he says huskily, gazing deeply into Mark's eyes, and Mark blushes from the roots of his hair.  
  
Jaebum caresses his face thoughtfully with the pad of his thumb. "Did you call that bassist cute just now?" he asks silkily.  
  
Mark gulps. "... You were listening?"  
  
Jaebum doesn't answer his question, instead going on, "I don't like it when you speak Chinese with others in front of me."  
  
"Why?" Mark frowns. Jaebum had told him before that he found it unbelievably sexy when Mark spoke Mandarin.  
  
"Because I don't understand it," Jaebum says simply.  
  
"O-oh," Mark stammers. "Okay, I won't do it again," he says appeasingly, pouting at Jaebum. "Forgive me, Jaebummie?"  
  
Jaebum swears under his breath and covers his mouth, but his disappearing eyes betray his smile.  
  
Mark laughs. For someone who professes he has no patience for cute things, Jaebum is surprisingly weak for them when it comes to Mark, and surprisingly cute himself. His is the kind of unforced, accidental cuteness that he doesn't even have to try to employ.  
  
"Stop that," Jaebum snaps, and Mark's laughter fades. "What, laughing?"  
  
"Laughing like a stupid mouse." Jaebum makes a face at him, then leans down without warning to attack him with a kiss, all teeth and tongue, muffling Mark's retort.  
  
"We should go back," Mark wheezes when he finally manages to break away from Jaebum's hungry mouth for a second. "They'll be wondering why we're taking so long."  
  
"Let them," Jaebum murmurs carelessly, sweeping Mark up in another breathless kiss.  
  
They both freeze when footsteps echo on the marble tile and someone else enters the bathroom. Mark can feel Jaebum's heart pounding in unison with his against his chest as they try not to make a sound until they hear the flush and running water and retreating footsteps. Only then does Jaebum let out a sigh and sag against Mark, finally backing off a little. Mark inhales deeply and takes in Jaebum, lips kiss swollen and eyelids hooded over smouldering, dilated eyes, face flushed intoxicatedly and hair post-coital. He looks like he's just been fucked.  
  
Anxiously, Mark cards his fingers through Jaebum's hair, smoothing the tufts down. He can only imagine how he looks himself and turns to unlock the door, bumping Jaebum and bustling out to tidy himself in the mirror. He looks much the same as Jaebum, with guilty eyes darting shiftily from side to side. Jaebum folds his arms and leans against the wall, cocking his hip as he smirks at him in their reflections, seeming unruffled and amused by Mark's fluster.  
  
Mark glares at him reproachfully and grabs his arm, dragging him firmly out of the bathroom. This time, Jaebum is the one who willingly gets hauled back.  
  
  
  
Mark skids to a halt a few paces from their table. Jaebum arches an eyebrow at him, as if saying, _See?_ He'd been right that Jinyoung and Jackson don't seem to have noticed their suspiciously long absence. Jinyoung is leaning forward, elbows on the table, looking rapt as he says something that elicits a high-pitched burst of laughter from Jackson. Jinyoung's face flushes with pride, looking smug and pleased that he had managed to impress him.  
  
Mark is wondering whether to walk up and interrupt them when Youngjae beckons them over. "Where did you guys disappear to? Come meet the rest of my bandmates."  
  
Jaebum promptly takes Mark's hand and leads him to their table, and Mark follows in relief. As they say hi and bump fists with the drummer and guitarist, Mark catches a glimpse of Jinyoung and Jackson huddled even closer together with their heads bent towards each other's, foreheads almost touching and bangs catching together with static. For a moment he thinks they're kissing before he realizes they're writing something on the glossy wooden surface of the table, which he had noticed before was covered with graffiti on almost every inch, the names of lovers and dates of anniversaries or just random sentences or quotes and phone numbers and doodlings. He wonders what Jinyoung and Jackson are writing.  
  
Jaebum hip-checks him gently, and Mark snaps out of his reverie to rejoin the conversation with Youngjae.  
  
  
  
They've been at the bar for a few blissful hours and the night is deepening. Jinyoung and Jackson have been deep in conversation, in a world of their own for more than half an hour when Jackson finally gets up, loping back to their table with a dreamy smirk on his face. Mark glances at Jinyoung who is staring at Jackson's retreating back like it's the most beautiful vista in the universe. He resists the urge to laugh and nudges Jaebum who looks over and quickly takes the situation into his hands, getting up and patting Youngjae's shoulder. Jaebum tells him he'll be in touch and they say their goodbyes as the band start gathering up their equipment too and heaving them towards the back door into their van. Jackson slings the bass over his shoulder and goes to help the drummer with his drum set, and Jinyoung leans against the table and stares grudgingly at them, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Mark quickly hurries towards him.  
  
"What were you guys writing?" he asks to distract Jinyoung, and thankfully succeeds. Jinyoung waves Mark closer, eyes bright with excitement and shows him a few words scrawled on the corner of the table, squeezed between crowded messages and almost unnoticeable if not pointed out. They are in a looping handwriting that isn't Jinyoung's and read "Jinyoung is so cute" in Chinese. Mark almost chokes on his spit.  
  
Jaebum looks amused. "What's wrong?" Mark sputters. "N-nothing. Do you know what they mean?"  
  
"Yeah, Jackson told me," Jinyoung replies. "I wish I could read Chinese too."  
  
"I can teach you," Mark offers, and Jinyoung brightens. "Really? Thanks, Mark-hyung!"  
  
Mark nods, but seeing the way Jaebum purses his lips, adds cheekily, "But I think you'd prefer Jackson to."  
  
Jaebum laughs, making Mark swell with pride, and Jinyoung blushes prettily, swatting his arm. "Hyung!" he whines. "Stop teasing me."  
  
  
  
Before they leave, Jinyoung hands them the black Sharpie he had been using and Mark writes Jaebum's name and the date on another corner of the table. Jaebum writes Mark's name and draws a clumsy heart around both of them, and Mark grins and adds some fancy curlicues, resisting the urge to start drawing all over the whole table. But as Jaebum looks at him, eyes adoring in the shadowy lamplight, Mark knows that he doesn't need to carve the date into wood to remember tonight. Because it's already engraved indelibly onto his heart, an invisible but permanent tattoo.  
  
  
  
After that day, Mark doesn't meet Jinyoung for almost a week, busy with work. But soon after, he receives a text message from Bambam: "Hyung, who is Jackson? Jinyoung-hyung has been all Jackson this, Jackson that, since his birthday."  
  
Mark laughs out loud. He knew Jinyoung had a crush, but hadn't known how big it was. He mentally files away this information for teasing purposes in future.  
  
He replies Bambam that Jackson is the bassist in the band they saw that night, and the next day he receives a text from Yugyeom. "Can you come and remove Jinyoung-hyung from our couch? He's been moping here all week like a lovesick puppy. Me and Bam need some alone time too, you know."  
  
Mark snorts. So Jinyoung had been mooning about his crush to Bambam and Yugyeom. He had probably been too embarrassed to say anything to Mark, knowing Mark would never let him live it down. Mark calls Jinyoung.  
  
"Where are you?" he asks, expecting Jinyoung to be at Bambam's house or his office, but Jinyoung replies, voice muffled by background noise, "At the bar we came for my birthday. Come over?"  
  
Mark tells him he'll be there in fifteen and hangs up, furrowing his brow. Does Jackson's band have a gig there again today? It's still afternoon, though, and they only play at night. Mark slips on his jacket and leaves the house into a balmy late afternoon.  
  
  
  
When he walks into the bar fifteen minutes later, he immediately locates Jinyoung dressed in casual, rumpled clothes and sitting at the same table as that night, chin propped lazily on his crossed arms on the table as his fingers trace absent patterns over the surface. There are few other customers at the bar at this hour and Mark makes his way through the tables towards Jinyoung.  
  
The waiter comes along and Mark orders a cherry martini. Jinyoung asks for another tequila and Mark raises his eyebrows at the two empty glasses already perspiring on the table, ice cubes melting.  
  
"What's up?" Mark starts delicately. Jinyoung looks different from his usual groomed and primped self, his hair tousled and faint circles around his eyes. His skin is red and irritated the way it is when he doesn't get a good rest.  
  
Jinyoung doesn't reply, his fingers finding Jackson's handwriting on the table. Oddly, the ink seems a little faded from the last time, as if Jinyoung has traced his fingertips over it so many times he's worn it down.  
  
"I can't believe he didn't even draw a heart," Jinyoung whimpers disconsolately, voice building to a low wail that makes Mark glance anxiously around them to see if anyone's looking. "He could've written something else besides _Happy birthday_. Anything!"  
  
"Wait, what?" Mark returns his attention to Jinyoung, distracted. "What did you say he wrote?"  
  
Jinyoung raises his head slightly, hopefully. " _Happy birthday_?" he says tentatively.  
  
Mark squints at the message to double-check. Unless his Chinese has deteriorated vastly, there's no doubt that Jackson had written _Jinyoung is so cute_.  
  
"Uhh, Jinyoung..." Mark murmurs, wondering how to break it to him.  
  
"Yes?" Jinyoung says eagerly but confusedly, leaning forward breathlessly.  
  
Mark laughs. "Jackson didn't write _Happy birthday_. He wrote _Jinyoung is so cute_."  
  
"WHAT!!!" Jinyoung's head snaps up so fast, Mark almost gets whiplash. "Are you shitting me?" he growls, eyes narrowed.  
  
Mark shakes his head solemnly. "I would never," he says gravely.  
  
"Oh my god," Jinyoung breathes in disbelief. "How dare that little shit lie to me," he curses, but his eyes are glowing with almost manic happiness, face flushed with obvious pleasure.  
  
Jinyoung leaps out of his chair so fast it almost topples over. "Thanks, hyung. I'm leaving first. Can you settle the bill? Laters."  
  
Before Mark can open his mouth, Jinyoung is halfway across the room. "Hey, what about your drink?" Mark gasps after him.  
  
"You can have it!" Jinyoung calls back generously, not even bothering to look back, as if he's picking up the tab. Mark lifts his middle finger discreetly towards Jinyoung's retreating back.  
  
  
  
Mark finishes the drinks, feeling self-conscious and alone, then fishes out his phone to dial Jaebum, feeling a little buzzed. Jaebum picks up after a few rings, but he sounds preoccupied as he says, "Mark-yah?"  
  
"Jaebummieee," Mark slurs, giggling. Jaebum sounds hassled but obviously pleased to hear from Mark. He must be busy at work. "Where are you?"  
  
"In my office," Jaebum replies after a pause. "But, uh, Mark --"  
  
"Please, Jaebum-hyung!" Mark hears a disembodied voice over the phone. A male voice. His stomach drops.  
  
"Oh my god," he whispers, sick comprehension dawning on him. "Are you cheating on me?"  
  
"What? No! Jesus, Mark, how could you even think -- Can you shut up a minute, Jinyoung-ah?" Jaebum's voice switches from dulcet to sharp in an instant, and Mark stifles a sigh of relief at the name. "Can't you hear whose voice it is?" Jaebum complains, and on further listening Mark can indeed recognize Jinyoung's trademark throaty tones. He feels ashamed for jumping to conclusions so hastily but relieved.  
  
"What is Jinyoung doing there?" he demands, bewildered. "I just met him."  
  
Jaebum exhales exasperatedly. "That's my line. You must know why he's hounding me for Jackson's number then."  
  
"Just give it to him," Mark orders as he hears Jinyoung's voice continue pleading plaintively in the background. "I'll explain later."  
  
"What?" Jaebum squeaks, outraged. "I don't even have it. I only have Youngjae's. Besides, he can't just waltz into my office in the middle of the day like this and interrupt my work --"  
  
"Jaebummie," Mark cuts him off, the endearment making Jaebum fall silent.  
  
"Just give him Youngjae's number," Mark says, and when Jaebum replies again, his voice is mollified, submissive.  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  
Mark finishes the charcoal drawing of Jaebum in the fall, a few months after he had completed and submitted the advertising project. Both are equally painstakingly-drawn, but the portrait of Jaebum is startlingly intimate, lovingly rendered and infinitely more personal. While Mark was trying to capture the look in Jaebum's eyes, what had popped into his mind was Jaebum on their first night together, that night of Mark's birthday. They had been clueless and terrified, clumsy and awkward as teenage boys losing their virginity. They had fumbled into it, all apologies and _Are you okay_ s and nervous giggles and sweaty hands and too-loud pants -- but they had fumbled into it _together_. And that made all the difference.  
  
Jaebum had been so sweet, so solicitous and breathtakingly tender as he asked Mark repeatedly if this hurt or that or if he was ready and if Jaebum could move now. Even then, even when Mark had said _Yes, please_ , Jaebum had stilled with a remarkable effort, quavering within him, pushed Mark's damp bangs away with a gentle finger, and asked, _Are you sure?_  
  
Jaebum had made him feel so taken care of, and then he had undone Mark, make him come unravelled in shouts of pleasure whose heights Mark had never been taken to. He had turned Mark into a writhing, moaning wreck beneath him. And Mark had seen Jaebum come completely undone too, fall to pieces in a way Mark had never seen him lose control before.  
  
It was exhilarating. Mindblowing. Incredible. Mark had had no idea that sex could be like that, that male sex could be like that. He had thought it would be something he had to grit his teeth and endure, a necessary pain so he could have a relationship with Jaebum. He never imagined that it would become the most thrilling part of their relationship.  
  
And after it was over, Jaebum had leaned over Mark, bracing himself up on his elbows, and asked so very tenderly, _Did I hurt you?_ His voice was so soft that it brought the prickle of tears behind Mark's eyes and Jaebum's own tightened in worry and contrition. "Oh God, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry." He had rolled off Mark, pulling out slowly, and run his hands over every inch of Mark's body until Mark reassured him that he wasn't hurt but just too happy.  
  
  
  
And on other times Mark had pushed Jaebum down onto the bed (of Jaebum's apartment, which he had incidentally moved into indefinitely, commuting to his studio to work in the day) and growled low in his throat, _You've been a bad boy, Jaebummie_ , like the day he had gotten a nasty shock calling Jaebum and hearing Jinyoung saying _Please, Jaebum-hyung_.  
  
 _No one is allowed to call you Jaebum-hyung_ , Mark had commanded unreasonably, voice low, and Jaebum's lip had twitched as if suppressing laughter, his eyes glinting wickedly at Mark. _But why_ , Jaebum had whined, he had so many dongsaengs, what would Youngjae and Yugyeom and Bambam call him then?  
  
Fine, Mark conceded, softening, but only if Jaebum called him Mark-hyung once.  
  
Jaebum's eyes widened. Then they darkened, and Mark shivered in anticipation. _Mark-hyung_ , Jaebum breathed, putting all the worship and desire in the world into that word, and Mark was instantly hard.  
  
 _You like that?_ Jaebum had drawled teasingly, grinding a knee against his cock. _It turns you on, Mark-hyung?_  
  
Mark had promptly shut him up with his mouth, and wiped off every trace of humour and impudence from Jaebum's eyes as he eased a finger into Jaebum's sweet tightness, two, then his own throbbing cock.  
  
Jaebum had moaned unabashedly beneath him, sultry and wanton, one arm thrown over his forehead as Mark steadily, carefully rocked into him. He felt Jaebum open up to him a little more with every thrust, felt how he bloomed beneath Mark like a flower opening its petals and then shattered into incoherent orgasm.  
  
  
  
Mark wonders what Jaebum will say, how he will look when he sees the expression in his eyes in Mark's drawing. Will he be taken aback? Frightened? Exposed? Will he feel the same way Mark feels every time Jaebum looks at him with those eyes -- warm, passionate, gentle, hesitant, admiring, conflicted, worshipful, frustrated, hungry, afraid, loving, endlessly falling?  
  
Jaebum had stumbled upon the unfinished portrait once, when it was still a work-in-progress. It was propped on the easel by the window in Mark's studio, and Jaebum had spotted it when he came to pick Mark up for dinner after work. Mark had been changing out of his painting clothes and he had emerged to see Jaebum's hand hovering over the cloth draped over the painting, a second from pulling it off.  
  
"No!" he had yelled, sounding harsher than he meant to. Jaebum's head jolted up, startled and confused and wounded. The hurt on his face made Mark's chest clench up but he mumbled some flimsy excuse about how it was a failed attempt that he didn't want anybody to see and herded Jaebum out of the door.  
  
After that, he had made sure to tuck the canvas out of sight whenever Jaebum came around. He had taken on a new job, recommended again by Jinyoung. His last one had received very positive reviews and feedback and Mark's reputation had ascended a rung in the artistic world. The advertisement was now in the post-production stages and Mark couldn't wait to see it, as much because he had participated as because it was the product of Jaebum's sweat and hard work.  
  
  
  
Mark had met Jaebum in the spring of last year. The autumn leaves are swirling down from the zelkova trees and crunching beneath their feet, the gentle sun bathing their faces and cool breeze lifting the strands of Jaebum's hair as Mark leads him up to his studio on Jaebum's birthday to finally unveil his present.  
  
His heart is beating erratically like the pulse in Jaebum's wrist when Mark runs his thumb over it and Jaebum smiles at him knowingly. Mark has dedicated the past few months to learning by heart every miniscule shift of Jaebum's expression, the lexicon of his smiles and the language of his eyes, but Jaebum still mystefies him like an unsolved mystery, a Rubik's cube. Mark thinks of Jaebum, how he's both cold and selfless, enigmatic and artless at the same time, and knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life finding out everything about him.  
  
When he tells Jaebum this, his face lights up in genuine delight and disbelief. "You've gone soft, hyung," he teases, flicking Mark's forehead and turning away but not before Mark sees the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Will Jaebum ever bare his heart and soul to him, say the three words Mark has always been subconsciously waiting for? But as Mark looks at Jaebum, he realizes that somewhere along the way, it had ceased to matter whether Jaebum said them or not. Because even if Jaebum didn't verbally express it, he demonstrated it so clearly in his every word and action, the way his voice and face softened when he talked to and looked at Mark, the way he smiled -- giddily, brilliantly, uncontrollably.  
  
  
  
As they walk, Mark confesses to Jaebum quietly about how his life had seemed like a dead end, an abyss at the time he met Jaebum. But Jaebum had shown him that there were in fact many possibilities, an infinite and limitless number, rainbow and techni-coloured, if only Mark were brave enough to reach out for them. So Mark had trusted Jaebum to catch him, and let himself fall.  
  
He didn't know it yet at that time, but Jaebum had become his muse, his source of inspiration. And his inspiration bubbled over like a well overflowing with water. He didn't know how to thank Jaebum for that.  
  
"You don't have to thank me, Mark-yah," Jaebum says simply. "At the time I met you, it was a rough period for me too. I was lonely and stressed and overworked, and my last failed relationship had made me a cynic about love. But when I saw you, clothes spattered with paint, wispy and flighty and fragile and beautiful, I _had_ to have you. You opened my eyes, made me see the world in a new way. A fresh way. You gave me the strength to go on and a reason to smile everyday. Most of all, you gave me a home to come back to at the end of the day."  
  
Mark blinks, speechless. He picks his jaw up from the ground. And Jaebum had called him cheesy. Mark opens his mouth to deliver a snarky jab, but the words dry on his tongue at the earnestness and candor in Jaebum's eyes. So for once, Mark decides not to hide his feelings behind bravado and humour. Instead, he just leans up on his tiptoes to press a feathery answering kiss to Jaebum's forehead.  
  
  
  
Presently, they arrive at Mark's apartment. He had cleaned it up earlier, swept the floor and cleared the mess of art materials from his studio and moved his easel right to the center of it, in the spot of honour. Even though he is proud of his work, Mark's heart is still beating furiously as he leads Jaebum playfully across the threshold and walks up to the easel, pulling the cloth off to reveal it with a flourish.  
  
When he sees the painting, Jaebum gasps. The eleven A.M. sunlight falling through the window hits the drawing in a way that makes the azzurrite of the background shimmer like a window of sky. The colour had been a last-minute addition, when Mark had felt something was missing from the black-and-white charcoal sketch and decided on impulse to add a dash of colour. Naturally, he had chosen blue, which was not only one of his favourite colours but also the colour Jaebum had come to symbolize to him because it was the colour of the sky, of freedom. Of flying.  
  
Even though blue was a simple and unassuming colour -- indeed, it was one of the primary colours -- it was stunning in its simplicity. Not fancy jewel colours like turquoise or ultramarine or sapphire -- just plain, normal blue, but with the right light illuminating it, it had the power to transform into a powerful, sweeping azure.  
  
And Mark thinks that it's befitting of how Jaebum had changed his life; how he had walked into Mark's life and brought colour with him, lighting up Mark's monochrome existence. It's almost like before he met Jaebum, Mark was colour blind, and Jaebum had taught him colour braille.  
  
  
  
He had never expected this, Mark thinks, walking hand-in-hand with Jaebum later on after they have left their apartment, taking a leisurely stroll through the park towards Bambam and Yugyeom's house, where they have agreed to pick them up. Apparently, they now share ownership of the apartment because Bambam has taken Yugyeom in as a boarder, and Yugyeom is working from his home, converting one of the rooms into a live-in studio. Jinyoung had been more than willing to take him on as a freelance artist because Yugyeom is (notoriously) renowned among art circles for his free-spirited and unconventional artistic style.  
  
After that, they have arranged to meet Jinyoung and Jackson at the graffiti bar for Jaebum's birthday celebration. Youngjae was the one who had invited them there, saying he wanted to serenade Jaebum for his birthday. ("No love songs, though, right?" Mark had joked, but Youngjae had only smiled enigmatically. "Maybe." Jaebum laughed gleefully. It gave him a kick to see Mark jealous.)  
  
When Mark had first met these six other boys, he hadn't expected anything from them. But they had given him everything. The unlikely but inextricable bond that they had forged in the past year had taught him all about friendship, just like Jaebum had taught Mark what loving a person meant. And the lessons that Mark had learnt from all of them were invaluable.  
  
  
  
As invaluable as Jaebum now, gazing across the length of the table at him with yearning eyes as Youngjae's mellow, soothing voice washes over them, singing something about being just right _no matter how hard I try to find, and look at you again and again_. His birthday present for Jaebum had turned out to be a set of acoustic covers of Jaebum's favourite songs, unaccompanied by the band, just Youngjae and his guitar sitting alone on a stool on the stage and leaning towards the mic, singing his heart out. His stripped, bare but powerful and pristine voice echoes around the bar, which they have reserved and is empty but for the seven of them.  
  
Yugyeom and Bambam are sitting docilely beside each other, their incessant squabbling quietened for once, but Mark can see from their postures that they are holding hands under the table. In contrast, Jinyoung and Jackson are not as subtle, Jackson perching in Jinyoung's lap as Jinyoung's arms wrap adoringly around him from behind. They've outgrown the phase when their PDA still looked cute to others, but they're still the most demonstrative and affectionate couple Mark has ever seen.  
  
Mark thinks of a different life, a different time. He thinks of a life in which he hadn't come to Korea and a life in which he wasn't a boy. A life in which Jaebum wasn't a boy; a life in which they both weren't boys; a life in which he was a poet, a firefighter, a barista.  
  
A life in which they're in a band, not an indie one like Youngjae's and Jackson's but one of those effiminate Korean pop teenage boybands that are all the rage right now; shackled by fame and convention.  
  
But no matter how many alternate realities Mark can imagine, they always lead back to the same road in the end. Because Mark cannot conceive of any lifetime in which he isn't devastatingly, desperately and head over heels in love with Jaebum.  
  
  
  
Youngjae brings the set to a satisfying end with a soulful rendition of John Legend's All of Me. Mark feels like maybe he really is in alarming danger of becoming the stereotypical gay man when he feels the overwhelming urge to stand up and waltz with Jaebum, in front of all their friends. Bambam and Yugyeom would stare at them like they were crazy. Jackson would snigger obnoxiously and Jinyoung would whip out his phone and start snapping pictures, cackling evilly as he plots never to let them live it down. But as Mark meets Jaebum's mischievously glinting eyes over all of their heads, he knows Jaebum would just gamely take it in stride, accept it like he has accepted all the other things about Mark, like Mark has accepted everything about Jaebum.  
  
Youngjae strums the last, fading chord that lingers in the blanket of cozy silence that descends upon them. Then he stands up and bows to raucous applause and cheers (and catcalls and wolf whistles from Jackson). He looks flushed with pride and pleasure as he steps down from the podium and settles down at the table beside Yugyeom, gulping down a drink thirstily.  
  
Next, they all give birthday speeches except Youngjae, who everyone agrees has expressed his feelings more than eloquently. Jackson clamours to go first, and promptly launches into his usual gags that lighten the mood and make everyone burst out laughing. Jinyoung goes next, clearing his throat as he reads from a piece of paper and hemming and hawing awkwardly, but Mark hears a quickly muffled laugh from Jaebum at his adorable bumbling. Bambam waxes lyrical, going almost immediately into cheesy territory with his glib tongue and slick flattery about how great a boss Jaebum is and what a joy it is to work for him. Yugyeom is his patented offbeat and laidback self as he mumbles a few words that somehow manage to sound profound and mysterious.  
  
Finally, it's Mark's turn. He climbs onto the stage with leaden legs and turns to face all of them, trembling like a leaf. A bead of cold sweat rolls down his back as Jaebum smiles up encouragingly at him, eyes eager and hopeful as he sits back to hear what Mark has to say. Mark has an even worse case of stage fright than he had feared and his clammy hands fumble in his pocket for the piece of ratty notebook paper he had drafted his speech on.  
  
But when Mark finally fishes it out and unfolds it, the words nervously scrawled on it in messy handwriting look hopelessly trite and cliche to his eyes. He can't bring himself to say them.  
  
Who is Mark kidding? He knows exactly what words to say to make Jaebum smile, to take his breath away, to bring him to tears. It's just that he's been running away, hiding behind contrived platitudes and artificially flowery words, so that he wouldn't have to say the three simplest, most monumental ones.  
  
Mark balls the paper up in his fist. The rest of them are gazing up at him in silence, looking slightly quizzical but all smiling encouragingly and patiently at him. Jaebum is looking at him with complete understanding and empathy, and Mark knows that even if he chickens out and walks off the stage now without saying anything Jaebum will just laugh to hide his disappointment and hug Mark, whispering _It's okay, baby_.  
  
From the day they met, Jaebum had always been the one to make the first move. He had always not minded Mark's passivity, wordlessly forgiving his cowardice and fear of rejection. So maybe now it's Mark's turn, to be brave and courageous and take a leap of recklessness for Jaebum, put himself out there just once.  
  
"Jaebum-ah..." Mark starts shakily.  
  
Jaebum smiles, a smile that says _I know what you're going to say_ ; a smile that says _Me too_ ; a smile that says _But I want to hear you say it anyway_ ; and so Mark takes a deep breath and decides to seize the day.


End file.
